Fallen
by of untold secrets
Summary: Sequel to Cut...Sucide is a strange thing, with motives even harder to comprehend. In a world of deception, where not everything is what it seems to be, Fang and the Flock are determined to find the true cause of Max's death, while trying to stay alive.
1. Chapter 1

**Yup, this is the sequel to my other story, Cut. If you haven't read it, you don't have to****, but it might make things clearer.**

**Special thanks goes to BlackAthena for encouraging me to write a sequel!**

**Disclaimer: sadly, I don't own Maximum Ride.**

Fang POV

No.

It can't be.

This must be some kind of trick.

But I was holding the evidence in my hands; seeing the evidence with my own two eyes.

Max had killed herself.

Her lifeless body lay before me, her pale face—beautiful even in death—was serene. The worried faces of the Flock, Dr. Martinez, and Ella stared at me with expressions of fear, sorrow, and disbelief. Max's letter, her last words, was in my hands as I scanned down the page, my incredulity soon turning into sadness.

How could she? How could she take herself away from us, from me? And, more importantly, why?

Hoping to find some reason, some explanation, I read the letter out loud.

'_By the time you read this, it would be too late. You can't stop me, nobody can now._

'_It's not because of you that I'm doing this. In fact, you're the only person that I trust, completely and without question. That's why you hold this in your hands. That's why I'm entrusting this to you, and no one else. The reason of this is something I cannot say; it's a secret that no one should know. Not even you._

'_I'll say this, though. I'm doing this for you, for the safety of all of you. All I'm asking is for you to lead the rest, to keep them safe. You're the leader now._

'_I'm trusting you to not panic, to not go around blaming yourself or anyone else. I'm trusting you to comfort my Mom, as she would definitely need comforting. I'm trusting you to do the right thing, both for yourself and the others._

'_What else can I say? About all the wonderful things that we have done together? About all of the great times I have had with you? Yes, my times with you has been the best in my life. You are my life. What else can I say?_

'_So, sorry. Sorry for everything I had put you through. Sorry for doing this. But alas, I have no choice. Sorry._

'_Goodbye. I love you, forever and always. You have been always so good to me, goodness I do not deserve, but I love you always. I love you._

'_From, Max.**'**_

By the last sentence, my voice was hoarse and I was biting the inside of my cheek to keep tears from spilling.

I looked around at everyone around me—my family, now—to find some consolation in their expressions. Surely one of us would be keeping their head, not drowning in a lake of despair like the way I was feeling?

But, no.

Nudge, for once, had nothing to say. Not a word. Her eyes just held fear and sadness and tears were beginning to pool at the edges.

Ella, Angel, and Gazzy had tears streaming down the sides of their cheeks.

Dr. M was busying herself in tidying the room up a little, but I could see her blank eyes and quivering lip.

Iggy had turned his sightless eyes to Max, and his eyes held the same question we all had.

_Why, Max, why?_

Something warm and wet trickled down the side of my face. I brought my hand up to it and, with a jolt of surprise, found tears. I haven't cried since Jeb had left the Flock and was presumed dead, all those years ago.

As if through some unspoken agreement, everyone got up and left the room, leaving me alone. I paid no heed to them; for me, there no one else in the world except for me and the girl I love.

"Why, Max? Why did you do this?" I whispered through silent sobs. How did I not see this coming? How did Max hide this so well that none of the Flock had ever expected this to happen?

Was it because of something that the Flock had done? Was it something I had done? Did Max kill herself because of me?

No, it can't be. She must have thought that this was for the benefit of the Flock; there was no other reason for this. She had spent her life taking care of the Flock…would it not make sense for her to end it doing that as well?

"Oh, Max," I murmured, before bending down to kiss her lips. She did not run away from my kiss this time, nor will she ever run again.

I spent a few more minutes just drowning in my sorrow, reflecting on Max, on the times I had spent with her. Then, I wiped away the tears, gave her one last kiss on the lips, and walked out the door, looking for the rest of the Flock.

I would wipe away Angel's tears, comfort Gazzy, talk some sense into Iggy. I would make Dr. M some tea, get Nudge to laugh, console Ella. I would do as Max had always done: taking care of people.

She would have wanted that.

**I think that's as much as I can write without turning it into a multi-chap story (which is a bad habit of mine), but I**** can if you guys want. Just say so in a review or PM me!**

**Sorry for any suckiness/OOCness.**

**Review?**


	2. Chapter 2

**I have decided to continue on with the story! –background people cheer-**

**Thanks to the first reviewers, ****Blackathena and Fangxxmylove. Roast chickens for both of you! What? I ran out of cookies…**

**On with the story!**

_They say you never know what you got till it's gone...  
-_Gone_ by Toby Mac_

Fang POV

That night, I put the younger Flock members to bed, trying hard to not notice their sad and haunted faces. Because if I did, the carefully composed mask that I had been wearing all day would break, and the world would know what I was feeling. That was something that I would never let happen.

But it was hard. Every time Angel looked at me, with knowing eyes that were wise beyond her years, my control would weaken. Every second of silence that slipped by, unfilled by Nudge's chattering, I would feel my mask slip, ready to fall off any second.

So when all of the Flock members were in their bedrooms, I muttered a quick 'good night' to Dr. M and rushed into mine.

I collapsed onto my bed, not bothering to change. Already I could feel my self-control weakening, feel tears ready to fall. And I let it happen.

Tomorrow, we—as in the Flock, Dr. M, and Ella—would bury Max in a patch of land in the forest, shaded by some oak trees. Tomorrow, Max would be gone, with nothing except memories to be remembered by.

Memories…

I remembered the puffy-eyed Gazzy that I had put to sleep--he didn't even bother to protest against bedtime as he usually does, just silently went upstairs when I had asked.

I remembered Ella's face of disbelief; she had lost her sister within a year of finding her.

I remembered Iggy, staring desolately at the table. Remembered Dr. M baking chocolate chip cookies in an attempt to cheer us all up—it didn't work; the cookies reminded us all too strongly of Max. Remembered Total, slumped on a cushion, staring emptily into space.

I stuck my face into the pillow to muffle my sobs. I had failed. At protecting Max, at helping the Flock, at everything.

_Stop it, Fang_, I told myself. _Think of happy times, instead._

I turned onto my back on the bed and thought of Max, of the night just before she killed herself.

_She had looked beautiful, as always. Her__ eyes lit up when she saw him and they kissed, long and slow as if she knew what was going to happen later that night. _

_I had stroked her neck, and remarked how beautiful she was. Max had blushed slightly and went away, presumably to look for chocolate chip cookies._

I remembered having something gooey on my hands after that, something like makeup.

Wait, makeup…

Makeup?!

Why would Max wear makeup, and around her neck at that? Who would do that?

A horrible thought came into my mind, and I couldn't shake it away. What if…

I leapt out of bed and padded silently down the hallway. If I couldn't shake the thought away, then I would have to prove it wrong.

I slipped into the room at the end of the hallway. Max's room.

Groping around for the lights, my hand hit a switch and flipped it on, bathing the room in its soft white glow.

Her body lay in the corner, still propped against the wall in the same position as the Flock and I had found her in, in the morning. She looked pale and fragile, as if even a gust of wind would blow her away.

Closing the door behind me, I knelt down beside her and brushed away the hair that covered her neck. Max's skin was cold, which unsettled me, but I ignored that. Instead, I worked on rubbing away the skin-coloured makeup that was covering the back of her neck, and seeing if anything lay beneath it.

What I found was like a punch in the stomach. My worst fears had been confirmed.

Max had an expiration date on the back of her neck. A date for the day after tomorrow.

Why hadn't she just told the rest of us that she was going to die? Actually, why had she killed herself at all, if her expiration was coming up so soon? Why?

The more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed. I mean, how didn't Angel, the mind reader, know that this was coming up? What was the point in hiding it?

Well, I knew the answer to the last question: Max wanted to protect us. Figures.

But the other questions still demanded answers, and I couldn't figure it out.

I ended up just staring at Max's neck, unable to think it through. Soon, though, I noticed what I was staring at. A chain.

You know, those jewellery chain-thingys made for necklaces that seem so weak that a baby could break them, but are actually, like, impossible to break? Yeah, those.

Max had always warned the Flock against wearing these, saying that an enemy could choke you to death with it. It was one of the few things that she had forbidden us to do, along with guns (I have no idea why) and earrings (Iggy blew that one).

So I was naturally curious why _she_ was wearing it.

Gently, I laid her back against the wall and took off the thin, gold chain. On the end of it was a gold locket.

Thoroughly curious now, I opened it and pulled out the small piece of paper that was inside. It was folded many times for it to fit inside the tiny container.

Taking seemingly forever, I finally unfolded it, pressed to creases out, and read the…whatever it was.

No…it couldn't be…

But it was.

A strange-sounding, strangled cry made its way past my lips and my fingers gripped the paper so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I hoped that nobody would ever see me in this state.

So, of course, at that exact moment, the Flock barged into the room.

**Yeah…this chapter was really messed up, but I couldn't figure out how to reword it.**

**Review?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the long wait...I blame the homework.**

**Anyway, thanks to all of the awesome reviewers. You guys rock!**

Fang POV **(which is probably what the whole story will be written in unless I've say otherwise)**

The Flock rushed into the room, worry etched into each of their faces. They relaxed once they saw me.

Why where they here? Weren't they supposed to be in bed, sleeping or something? Why now?

As if sensing the (slightly) confused face I was wearing, Iggy explained, "Angel heard your thoughts. She thought you were being attacked. I guess she was wrong, though."

I winced internally. I guess my thoughts _were_ a little panicked, and I had every excuse for them to be so. But did I have to think them within ten metres of a mind-reading six-year-old? Now the Flock would definitely sense something wrong.

"Hey, what's that?" Gazzy asked, snatching the paper from my hands. Right on time. His brow furrowed as he scanned it over.

"For goodness sake, Gazzy, what is it?" Iggy muttered irritably.

I closed my eyes. _I do not want to hear this, I do not want to hear this_…I chanted silently to myself.

Gazzy began to read it out loud.

I heard it.

_Max,_

_So you are the mighty Maximum Ride, the one who escaped from the School, who brought down Itex. Well, I have a proposition for you._

_I'll ask this once, and once only, so pay attention._

_I ask you to join me, to help me take control. Those resource guzzling, eco-disasters they call factories? With your help, I will be able to take them down. The remnants of Itex—we'll destroy those together. But only with your help._

_In return, I'll guarantee the safety of your family, those people that you call the Flock. You value their lives, do you not?_

_If you still do not agree with me, then I will tell you this: your Flock's lives are in your hands._

_Yes—they will get killed if you do not agree, and you will die along with them._

_You don't believe me? Well, maybe this will help convince you._

_At nine o'clock tonight, __your expiration date will appear. An expiration for four days after you get this letter. You see, I have more power than you will ever dream of, power to make people die as I please._

_If you join me, you will get some of this power, along with your life. If you do not, then say goodbye to your family._

_Do not answer this letter. A messenger of mine would arrive at your house tomorrow morning, you will answer to him. If he does not return bearing a message from you, then I will consider that as a refusal._

_Choose wisely, Maximum._

_P.S. Burn this letter after you read it. Do not tell your Flock members, if you value their lives. _

The room was as silent as a funeral. Maybe it was one.

"You mean..." Nudge started, hesitated, then started again, "you mean Max killed herself to protect us?"

_Right_, I thought, but said nothing.

Outside, I appeared calm and collected. Inside, I was seething with rage that somebody dared to blackmail Max, to threaten our lives, to cause her to commit suicide.

"But there' still one thing I don't get," Iggy said, brow furrowed in thought, "why did she kill herself if she knew that she was going to die soon anyway?"

This time, I spoke up. "Max was afraid of killing us all...if she had said no to whoever wrote that letter, then she would be risking our lives. If she had agreed, then she would be risking the lives of whoever were the victims of the plan."

I had no idea where all of that came from, but I decided to continue. "Max killed herself to tell us that something was going on, that something was wrong. She hoped that, if she died, it would throw a wrench into the plans and alert us of danger. She had committed suicide in hopes that we would get the idea and find whoever sent the note, to do something that she couldn't do by herself."

Finally finished, I panted a bit and wondered where I had gotten this conclusion from. I hadn't planned it, had barely even thought of it before Iggy brought the question up. However, it just seemed _right._ Cheesy I know, but still.

Around me, the Flock wore expressions varying from surprised to amazement, at my logic and speech-making skills. Or it could be because I had spoken more than three consecutive words in the same sentence, I don't know.

Iggy spoke up. "So am I right to say that it's time to save the world again?"

"Yeah," I answered, holding my fist out to his.

Total rolled his eyes and stuck his paw out. "Our work is never over."

"For Max," I said, ignoring him.

The Flock tapped fists.

"For Max."

**Review?**


	4. Chapter 4

**A million thanks to everyone who's reviewed!**

Fang POV

The door. Max's closed bedroom door. That was where I needed to go.

I put one foot on the plush carpet of Dr. M's hallway. I'm one step closer to Max.

Because that's what I knew what I'll find beyond that door—Max, as vibrant and alive as she was a week ago, before all of this had happened.

I'm striding now, eager to see Max, eager to be reassured that everything was alright, that everything was going to work out fine. I start jogging.

Three metres away from the door and what lay beyond…two…

My hand reached out for the doorknob, anxious to turn it, to open the door. But before I even touched it, the door disappeared, reappearing another few hundred metres away.

Worried now, I started running for it.

As I ran, I noticed the light in the hallway fading, almost receding altogether. What used to be a bright, cheery-looking corridor now was foreboding, dark, and shadowed. The overhead florescent lights are gone now, replaced by dim torches on the walls on either side of me. My sneakers hit the grey stone floor, bringing up dust that made me want to sneeze.

But I didn't dare sneeze. If I did, then all of this might vanish completely, leaving me with no chance of seeing Max again.

And still I ran.

The hallway was a lot more complicated now. Sometimes passageways branched off it, into the dark unknown. Sometimes routes doubled in on itself, making large, pointless loops. The torches on the walls are a lot fewer now, leaving whole sections of corridor unlit.

And still I ran.

This place was turning very mazelike by now, with unexpected turns and twisting passageways. Several times, I tripped—over what, I did not know, nor did I want to.

The only thing that kept me going was the sight of the simple wooden door at the end of this hallway. I knew that if I reached there and into whatever lay beyond it, then I will be safe.

The door was so close now, so close…

My feet closed in the last few metres of space between me and the door, and I reached my hand out again for the doorknob.

I was so close to the knob…just a few more centimetres…

And then I woke up.

To Nudge's excited chatter.

Believe me, you don't want to be woken up at—what, seven in the morning—to a shouting, excited Nudge. You just don't.

I groaned, and stuck my face deeper into my pillow. _She'll stop eventually_, I told myself. I didn't believe the lie.

In my place, Max would have probably gotten up and shouted for Nudge to get back into bed, 'cause it's like, a freakin' six-thirty in the morning, and that—unless whatever-it-was was really important--it could wait until morning.

Unfortunately, I was not Max and my patience was running short (whether from the strange dream, Nudge's chatter, or the fact that that strange longing I had during the dream had not quite gone away, I don't know).

"For goodness sake, Nudge, shut _up_!" I shouted in what's got to be the loudest I've spoken in my life.

Ahh, sweet silence.

But only for a moment.

Nudge ran into my room, and pulled me out of my nice, warm bed.

"Fang! You've got to get up, like right this instant. I think Angel and I have found Max's blackmailer—"

That sure got my attention. I quickly rubbed my eyes and tried to ask Nudge what she found about him. However, she was already pulling me out the door, words pouring out of her like a flood.

"…He's like this really powerful man—he owns three Itex buildings! I also think he's been stalking us 'cause he's got our address and everything. Angel's still hacking into his computer, but we're finding more and more suspicious data by the second. He disappeared completely a few years ago—can you believe that? Like, there's no information about him at all since three years ago. He's completely dropped off the radar, figuratively, of course, and—"

"Nudge," I said, finally finding an opportunity to get a word in, "what's his name?"

"Alexander Martinez."

Wait…

"Martinez?" I asked, panicking slightly inside, "You mean, like Max's mom, Martinez?"

Nudge nodded. "Yup. They're related and everything. I think he's her older brother—scary, right?"

Scary, very scary. "Are you sure about that?" I said, hoping that she had got something wrong.

"I'm positive. If you want, I can show you their birth certificates…the government should keep their files under tighter security."

Time to worry about the government chasing after us later, this information meant something very bad.

As Nudge continued to give me specifics about Mr. Martinez, I pondered what his being related to Dr. M could mean. Obviously it meant that he could probably easily get information about the Flock, it also meant that he probably had easy access to the house. That could not mean good.

Nudge showed me the laptop with which she had hacked into Alex's computer. I had to admit, she and Angel were skilled in doing this kind of thing.

By the end of half an hour, I knew everything I wanted to know about Alex Martinez, probably more.

Suddenly, Nudge said, "We have to compare Max's blackmail note to this writing on computer. Every computer types differently—you know that? Like, some types the letter 's' crooked, or have weird spacing. I want to see if the typing on Max's note match's with the stuff here, just to make sure we've got the right guy. Come on, I think it's still in her room!"

I followed her back into the hallway. I looked longingly at my unmade bed as we passed my bedroom, and then we were in front of Max's closed door.

Suddenly, I felt that weird sense of longing again, like I have to see what's behind the door, like I have to find out everything about this.

Nudge opened the door and there was the note—right where we had left it in the bedside table. But there was something wrong.

Max had disappeared.

**Review?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to AmyQueen95 for reviewing!**

_We may have lost the war before it has even begun._

_-Unknown_

Fang POV

Max had disappeared.

My tired, jumbled mind processed this thought, unbelieving. I felt numb, my eyes staring dumbly at the black space on the floor where Max had previously been.

All yesterday and today, I have been trying to forget the fact that Max was, in fact, dead. Trying to forget that fact that my chest felt like it had a huge gaping wound in it; that my life had been turned inside out. I had spent my energy working, helping, doing everything except think about what lay in the room at the end of the hallway.

It didn't work. I couldn't help remembering, as much as I tried not to. It was impossible, like trying to forget how to breathe. And plus, everything I saw had reminded me of Max, from the laptop, to cookies, to even the leaves outside.

But now…

It felt like some kind of cruel joke. I mean, the Flock and I had just lost Max two days ago, and now she wasn't here at all, not even physically. Now, we don't even have a body, a shell of Max to say goodbye to.

And to think that we were intending to bury Max this afternoon…

Somewhere during my chaotic thought process, my mind had somewhat cleared itself. I began finding logical alternatives, reasons why Max was not here in this room

I voiced some of these to Nudge, who had been silent all this time and looking to be in a state of shock.

"Maybe Dr. M had moved her?" But I couldn't recall hearing Max's mom come upstairs since yesterday. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen her at all.

Somewhere downstairs, a phone rang. I ignored it, instead trying to remember when I had seen Dr. M last. The last time I had seen her was yesterday afternoon—a very long time ago for someone who liked to live in the present.

Suddenly, Nudge seemed to snap out of it. Her eyes refocused, and her mouth opened slightly. I opened my mouth to ask her if she had seen Dr. M today, but was cut off by a shriek.

Nudge's.

* * *

Angel POV

I stared at the screen of the laptop and dreamily watched its soft, pulsing glow.

I remembered how Max used to always complain about this, saying that the glow would attract Erasers and Flyboys like moths to light. Good old, paranoid Max.

Max, who was dead.

A small whimper wrestled its way between my lips before I could get my emotions under control. I pushed any thoughts of Max from my head, but could not stop the single, small tear from flowing out of my eye. I wished for the comfort of holding Celeste or Total, but they were both upstairs.

_Toughen up_, I chastised myself. Max wouldn't have cried, she would have hidden her feelings away someplace deep inside her, and put on a brave mask for the rest of us. Max wouldn't have fallen apart at a mere memory.

Max again. I have to stop thinking about her, to forget that she was upstairs, pale and cold…

I growled and, shaking that thought from my head, returned my focus to the laptop. There is still a lot we need to learn about Mr. Martinez, and the work's not going to get done like this.

I resumed my work of hacking into Mr. Martinez's home computer.

All of the Flock members were upstairs. Nudge and Fang were looking for…something, and Iggy and Gazzy were busy building yet _another_ bomb. Which left only myself as the only one downstairs. For some reason, that made me feel lonely.

I concentrated on the laptop, typing in a password.

Technically, Nudge should be doing this, not me. But she had taken (or should I say, more accurately, dragged) Fang upstairs to retrieve something. So here I am, attempting to get into his private files. Luckily, the files didn't seem to have any major security software or anything built in. At the moment.

_Where's that fuse Gazzy and I made yesterday?_ I heard Iggy wonder where he and Gazzy were making a complicated bomb in his room.

_It's in Gazzy's room, on top of his night table_, I told him, projecting the words into his mind.

_Whaa--?_ For a moment, Iggy panicked, but then realized that it was me. _Oh, Angel. It's just you. You're creepy, you know that?_ I giggled a little and broke the connection, returning my focus back to the laptop.

Just as I was actually getting somewhere, the phone rang. The phone, being on the counter behind me, was annoyingly loud and shrill, but I ignored it and waited for Fang or Iggy or somebody to pick it up. After all, I was busy. Four loud rings later, I gave up and grabbed the phone.

"Hello?" I said, being careful to make my voice sound older than it was. People instantly get suspicious when they hear a six-year-old's voice answering the phone.

An unidentifiable, dead-sounding voice—that was a lot like Max's Voice—answered in a dull monotone. "We are watching you."

"What?" I asked, trying to keep panic and paranoia from bubbling up into my voice, "Who is this?" No reply.

The caller had hung up.

Horrified, I let the phone drop from my hands. I whimpered again.

Somewhere upstairs, Nudge screamed.

**Review?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks go to all the reviewers! Virtual smiley faces to all of you! :D**

Iggy POV

Let's vote: how many of us think Angel's a creepy kid? That's what I thought.

But you can't deny that she's helpful when you're looking for, say, a fuse made of an old sock, that has mysteriously gone missing.

I sighed in relief as I grabbed the fuse off Gazzy's night table. We had spent all of yesterday night making that to perfection and there was no way that I was remaking it.

As I turned around to walk back out of the room, I heard a creaking noise from the window. Huh?

I whipped around, my ears straining to hear more, my body tensed to fight. But I was too late.

A dull _thwack_, and the sharp sting of a tranquilizer dart was all the warning I had before sinking into darkness.

* * *

Fang POV

"Any signs of Iggy yet?" I asked as a tired-looking Gazzy shook his head, walked into the living room, and collapsed on the couch.

I frowned and looked at the clock. 3:45 pm. Six hours since he disappeared from Gazzy's room, with nothing but an old-sock fuse (which Gazzy claims is really valuable) to prove that he was ever there.

Nudge was comforting Angel in the corner.

"It's my fault," Angel kept saying, "it's my fault that he's been captured."

"Don't worry," Nudge murmured, "It's only a few hours…we'll find him, don't you worry."

I winced internally. A lot could happen in a few hours.

Nudge looked up to me, and I could see worry in her eyes. Ever since she had screamed, or whatever you call it, she's been making a point of being extra calm and quiet, but I could see the barely-suppressed panic.

Me? I'm close to panic myself. Yes, you've heard that right. Mr. Emotional-as-a-brick-wall is freaking out. You can't blame me, what with Max dead and Iggy missing, can you?

I sat down on a nearby chair, suddenly tired out of my mind. These last few days have just been freaky event after event, with no signs of stopping. I sighed quietly.

Trying to think of something else, anything else, my mind randomly conjured up a memory.

It was after everyone had stampeded into the room to check if Nudge was okay. She had whispered very quietly that there was something she wanted to tell me, and motioned into the corner of the room.

_"Fang," Nudge said, dropping her voice down to a whisper, "I have something to tell you…you know how I can sense things in the past, right?" I nodded, not knowing where she was going with this. She continued. "Well, I kind of…sensed a guy, the messenger…he was the one who took Max away, Fang." I just stared at her, as if unable to comprehend, though I understood it clearly. "He was scary, Fang. He had no morals, no thought. It's like he had no control over himself, you know? Like some other guy was controlling him. But he was sent from Alex Martinez. That's for sure." Nudge paused, "That's why I screamed, if you want to know. It was just…so creepy, you know? Having no mind or anything." I knew. I understood completely._

Okay, okay. Maybe it wasn't random. But I had no idea why my brain threw up _that_ particular memory. There were a lot of things that have happened in these past few days I have no idea about.

I have no idea what to do next. I have no idea how to take care of the Flock. I have no idea how to be a good leader, like Max—

At that moment, Dr. M (thankfully) came into the room, carrying mugs of hot chocolate, marshmallows, and plates of her chocolate chip cookies. She took one look at the quiet and despairing Flock members scattered around the room, set the food on the coffee table, and left the room.

In case you're wondering, she was apparently gone from the house because she had a heavy workday. I, of course, did not believe that story one bit, but she was probably mourning. I'm not going to pry.

Anyhow, I have problems of my own to work out. One of them being the swiftly disappearing hot chocolate mugs.

Quickly grabbing one of the heavy, sky-blue mugs, I took a sip, burning my tongue. I scanned the room, watching the other Flock members instantly transform from emo-like to somewhat happy, taking drinks from the chocolate even if their tongues got burnt.

_It's like he had no control over himself, you know?_

I watched Gazzy steal marshmallows from Angel, who, in turn, took cookies from Nudge, all of them were giggling, with Total running around them taking sips of his chocoalate. I swiped a few more marshmallows from the table and popped them into my mouth.

_Like some other guy was controlling him._

I watched as Gazzy tackle Nudge. "I come on behalf of Angel and marshmallows!" I heard him yell, good-naturedly letting Nudge take some of his cookies. I've almost forgot how _good_ it was to see them laugh, to have fun.

_But he was sent from Alex Martinez. That's for sure._

Max's disappearance.

Iggy's kidnapping.

Max's disappearance. Iggy's kidnapping.

There's got to be some connection between the two. Things like that don't happen on the same day unless there's a _reason_. Right now, the only reason I could think of was Alex Martinez.

Could it be?—

At that moment, the phone rang. I growled at it for interrupting my thought process, but then picked it up.

"Hello?" I said, maintaining a calm and collected appearance.

An emotionless voice came on. "Do not bother to look for your 'Iggy'. We have him now."

What? "Who is this?"

There was a small pause, then, "Itexicon."

No. It can't be.

A small click as the person on the other end disconnected. There was complete and utter silence in the room.

Angel looked at me fearfully. She knew.

It was at that moment that the Flock's little detective work became a search-and-rescue mission.

**Yeah, I know these chapters are kinda boring. More action coming soon…really!**

**Review?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Yes, it's the next chapter! But before we do that, I gonna reply to someone first...**

**Tempe (I would have private-messaged you, but you replied anonymously) - Cool penname. Could you explain what the quote means? I don't really get it...sorry...**

**On with the chapter! **

_These violent delights have violent ends,_

_which, in their triumph, die..._

-Romeo and Juliet

Fang POV

"Do you know where Iggy is?"

"No."

"Do you know for sure who had kidnapped him?"

"No."

"Do you absolutely certain that he is kidnapped at all, and not just lost somewhere?"

Hmm…let me think… "No."

Dr. M threw up her hands in frustration. "Then why are you in such a hurry to go out and find him?"

If Iggy wasn't (possibly) in danger, I would be finding this whole conversation extremely amusing. Unfortunately, his life may be being threatened right this second.

I try to be patient. "Iggy is part of our family. We have been in too many life-threatening situations to _not_ go out after him. We just have to."

Dr. M, obviously seeing that I wouldn't budge an inch, sighed. "Fine. Just try your best to stay safe, okay? No heroics this time."

I nodded.

She paused for a second. "But you don't know where Iggy is supposedly being held. How are you going to rescue him?"

"Nudge is going to trace the phone call."

"I am?" Nudge cut in from a nearby sofa where the rest of the Flock sat, watching me and Dr. M. I silently ground my teeth.

"Yes, you are. Right now, in fact."

Nudge was smart and took the hint. "Okay," she said before rushing out of the room.

With Dr. M's consent about the Flock leaving to look for Iggy, I helped the Flock pack up, at least until Nudge traced the call.

Which was in fifteen minutes.

She rushed into the room where I was packing some of Gazzy and Iggy's bombs into a backpack. Crashing into me, I almost dropped the weighty bomb I held—the one with their special, old-sock fuse—onto the ground.

"Careful, Nudge," I chastised, watching as she was literally jumping in excitement. "What? Have you traced the call already?"

She nodded excitedly. "Yup. It came from an Itex building pretty far from here—Colorado, believe it or not. It took me a really short time to find it…all they had were a few false trails and dead ends. Talk about lack of security! If I were them, I would be protecting the phone really good. But still, it wasn't easy. See, they had this password you needed to put in to get his location, and—"

I pressed a hand over her mouth. "Enough. I'm really glad that you've managed to trace it, but save the technical things for the rest of the Flock, okay?" she nodded, a bit sheepish.

An hour later, we were all dressed and showered and packed and with full knowledge of all the Plan A's and B's and Z's and backup plans firmly in our heads.

After saying a quick goodbye to Dr. M, promising that we'd be back soon, one by one, the Flock launched themselves from the neat front lawn of the house that had been our home for ages, and into the air, heading north.

Had Itex had thought that the Flock would be weak without its leader? Had they predicted that we would just lie down and surrender? Had they thought that they had won?

Well, this time, Itex had underestimated us.

* * *

You know that cartoon you always watched when you were little? About the kick-butt hero and her loyal sidekick? And how they travel around, defeating evil?

And you know the episode where the hero gets captured by the aforementioned baddies, and now the sidekick has to work alone to rescue his/her leader?

Yeah, that's how I feel right now.

Only, the leader is dead, the loyal sidekick is too busy rescuing the _other_ loyal sidekick to even _think_ about defeating the bad guys this time, there is no humorous comic relief and brightly-coloured backgrounds to bring cheerfulness to the plot, and there is no happy ending at the end of the story.

Oh, did I mention that the leader, the kick-butt leader was dead?

Why the pessimistic thoughts, you ask?

Well, it _might_ have had something to do with the eight hour non-stop flight on half-empty stomachs. My mind and my stomach tend to think alike.

Or, it might have had something to do with Gazzy singing the Constipation song ten times through with no pause, or Angel mind-controlling random birds to do tricks for us, or the fact that Nudge did not stop chattering for the whole trip (I know they're trying to keep their mind off of the events of the past few days, but could they at least do it quieter?).

Or, maybe it could have had something to do with the flirty red-headed girl sitting at the desk when the Flock was trying to check into a Colorado motel. She kept giggling and tossing her hair and winking at me. Disgusting.

After Max, I have absolutely no intention of even looking at a girl again.

_Or_, it may have something to do with the single room we were given (apparently, motel rooms are expensive), and the fact that since there were only two beds, and that Nudge got a bed for herself, I was now sleeping on the floor. Not too bad, considering all of the trees and caves we had slept in, but bad enough.

I wrinkled my nose at the musty smell of the dusty, off-white carpet, and shifted around so my wings were in a more comfortable position.

_Close your eyes_, I told myself. _Just go to sleep_.

Soon, I was drifting into darkness, into the land of dreams and delusions and impossibilities where nothing is as it first seems.

Nothing.

**Review?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks to…**

**-Tempe**

**-emotionalpoemgirl**

**-Flight at Midnight**

…**for reviewing!**

Fang POV

When I woke up the next morning, I was instantly aware of the few, but potentially lethal, mistakes that I had made.

Actually, scratch that.

When I woke up the next morning from another intense dream, I yawned, turned my back away from the window (because the bright sunlight hurt my eyes), and closed my eyes again.

Mistake number one.

Then, I realized that, for once, I had had a decent night's sleep outside of Dr. M's home, and I wondered why no one had woken me up for watch duty.

No watch duty—mistake number two.

_Then_, I realized that Max was not here to assign watch duty. Memories of her were still painful, so I closed my eyes really tightly and covered my ears in an attempt to stop the memories from coming. In doing so, I did not hear the ominous clank of metal-on-metal, and the soft beating of wings outside the motel room.

Mistake number three.

So maybe that is why the room was currently flooded with Flyboys.

I was pinned to the ground by two Flyboys, spitting carpet fibres out of my mouth while struggling against their iron hold. Twisting my head around, I strained to find our how the rest of the Flock was doing.

Well, let's see…

Nudge was pinned against the wall, hurling insults at the Flyboys. Angel was being held by another Flyboy, and so was Gazzy. I searched around for Total, before finding him trapped in our backpack, strung between the hands of a Flyboy. The bag shook and wobbled, as Total struggled to escape.

_Are you okay?_ Angel projected into my mind.

I sent a mental _yes_, then paused, and thought, _where are all our bombs? Can Gazzy reach them?_

_No, he can't. _Angel sounded almost wistful. I realized that she had already given in.

Sensing my thoughts, Angel replied, _face it—there's no way we can win._ I ignored her.

I twisted my arm around and (subtly) groped for a weapon. My hand hit something ceramic, but before I could grab it, the Flyboys heaved me up to my feet.

"We are one of many," one Flyboy intoned in a dull monotone, "Do not fight. Come with us and you will not be hurt."

I smirked. _Not likely_, I thought. The Flock never goes down without a fight. Then, a voice said something that made my blood run cold.

"Struggle and you will be shot. Do not bother to fight…we have your so-called 'Iggy'—if you fight, we will kill him. Surrender and no-one would be harmed."

I twisted my head around again and saw…nothing.

Nothing—just my Flock members and the Flyboys. No mysterious enemy was in sight. No shiny glint of metal or soft pad of footsteps to betray the presence of another.

The disembodied voice continued speaking…but this time, it was in my mind.

_Surrender. No one will get hurt. I'm sure you would not want to see your beloved Flock member killed, would you?_

The voice didn't sound nice. It sounded…inhuman, with cold, emotionless tones and words that felt like they were slathered in oil. I felt like I was being drenched in cold water. Cold, black, oily water.

And from the expressions on the rest of the Flock's faces, I was guessing that they were being 'talked' to as well.

An image was projected into my mind, flashing before my eyes. An image of Iggy, tied to a chair in a dimly-lit room. His dirty strawberry-blond hair hung limply in front of his face, and he slouched against his restraints. Bruises covered his arms, and I thought he was unconscious until he raised his head and looked me square in the eye.

I dimly heard gasps from the rest of the Flock, but my eyes were fixed to Iggy's—or the image of Iggy's—eyes.

They were a pale, icy blue. Cold. And full of hurt and betrayal, accusing.

But even worse than the accusations was the vast pool of hurt behind the cold. Betrayal. Looking at me as if _I_ was the enemy, not his capters.

These weren't Iggy's eyes…these were the eyes of someone hurt far too many times to ever heal.

This was wrong, wrong, _wrong_.

But still, some naïve part of me insisted that these images were just tricks, just mind tricks designed to scare us.

Or, if they weren't, he was glaring at some whitecoat interrogator, not one of this Flock.

But one look at Iggy face removed any doubts about its certainty. This was real; this was Iggy; this was how he felt about the Flock.

This was bad.

What lies did the whitecoats feed Iggy so that he could possibly feel that way? That one question raced around my mind as, slowly, the image dissolved, leaving me staring, dazed, at the rest of my horrified Flock.

Suddenly, the air before me shimmered, and a man appeared. It looked as if he had walked out of thin air.

The man was young—about in his mid-twenties or so and was wearing a business suit. He was also skinny, with incredibly pale skin and blank eyes that stared, transfixed, at some point in the distance that only he could see. his thin, drawn face reminded me of--not a hawk--but of some other, dangerous bird-like predator. Inhuman.

Nudge gasped quietly.

Almost faster than the eye could see, he turned on her. One thin, gaunt hand stretched from his crisp white cuff and gently stroked her cheek while his eyes were still creepily staring vacantly into the distance.

I struggled against the Flyboys that held me immobile.

"Did you like that little bird?" he said with a malice that left me with no doubt about the identity of the person who spoke into my mind. "Your 'Iggy' is alive—very alive, in fact. Only, he has learned some things about his precious Flock that he should have known long before. And he…well, you could see his reaction."

"What did you do to him?" a panicked-looking Gazzy shouted from his position between two Flyboys.

The man chuckled dryly. "Oh, nothing. It's what _you_ did that hurt him the most." He said, almost purring. His expression grew hard again. "Now, tell me. Are you going to come with us calmly and easily, or difficultly? Either way, we'll have you. Choose wisely, my friends."

The Flock met my gaze, as if asking for permission to surrender. I couldn't bear it. I dropped my gaze and grew limp against the cold, metallic arms of the Flyboys.

After all, it was me who had gotten them into this mess. _My _mistakes, not theirs. And it's my responsibility to get them out—everyone, even and especially Iggy, no matter what he thinks of us.

There's no point in fighting. They've got us outnumbered about three to one, and all of our bombs were in the backpack, the one Total was in.

Plus, this way was the fastest way to get to Iggy.

The rest of the Flock followed my example. It felt strange, giving in. the Flock wasn't used to surrendering, especially when there were lives at stake. But at the moment, it seemed to be the best choice.

The man smiled thinly. "Good. I see that you are smart, and took my advice." He raised a tranquilizer gun. "Nighty-night."

One by one, he shot the Flock. Whatever was in those sedatives, it was strong, and they all were unconscious within a few second after they were shot.

The man saved me for last. He aimed the gun to my leg, but paused, and sneered slightly.

"Remember—you can never win."

Then, there was a sudden pain in my thigh and my vision blurred.

It probably was well that he put me unconscious when he did. 'Cause the guilt was overwhelming.

'_This time, Itex had underestimated us_.' Ha.

No, we had underestimated _them_.

And that was the worst mistake of all.

**Wow...that wasn't what I meant to at all...that chapter kind of just wrote itself. Sorry if there was any OOCness.**

**Do you want to read Iggy's POV of the last couple of chapters?**

**Review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks go to awesomely awesome reviewers like:**

**-Crashing Rain**

**-Tempe**

**-Flight at Midnight**

**-emotionalpoemgirl**

Iggy POV

Aching head.

Darkness all around me.

Cold metal ground.

Harsh voices.

Wow, that was some tranquilizer that got injected into me.

What's a tranquilizer?

Where are the Flock? I hope they are okay. I hope they rescue me soon.

Who are the Flock?

Wait...who am I?

Footsteps.

Trying to open my eyes, to move, to do _anything_.

Exclamations of surprise.

A sharp pain of...what? A dart?

More darkness.

And the last thought I had before sinking back down into darkness was...

Where am I?

* * *

Okay, this was official. I had the worst headache in the history of man...or mutant.

Groaning slightly, I lifted my arms and rubbed my forehead. Or at least tried to.

I was sitting upright in a chair, with hands chained behind my back. And, judging from the weight of the stuff on my ankles, my feet were chained as well.

Where am I? I wondered.

Somewhere in a building? Yes.

Surrounded by evil whitecoats? Probably.

Far away from the Flock and completely lost, being in a totally new environment? Most definitely.

As far as I could tell, I was sitting in a chair in the middle of a small, enclosed space.

_Prisoner of war_, some sadistic subconscious part of me whispered. _Interrogation room_.

I guess it was right. This site felt eerily like the setting of that war/soldier movie the Flock and I watched one day at Dr. M's house.

You probably think I should be more panicked at the thought of being captured again, right? Well, I've been captured so many times, that I've gotten used to it. There's no cause for concern. Just another day in the life of _moi_.

Okay, okay. So I'm not used to being captured…yet. How could I be? Have _you_ ever woken up one day to some strange new place, filled with horrors and knowing that you could be killed any second? Inside, I was—to put it extremely nicely—freaking out.

I shifted a little in the chair, and tried to rest my head against the back before jerking forwards and realizing that I was not the only person in this room.

Actually, it was a wonder that I haven't sensed the person—or thing—before. I may be blind, but I'm not _completely_ sensory deprived.

As if sensing that I was aware of his—it was a man, I could tell—presence, he slowly got up and strode towards me. I stiffened, waiting for a blow or the sharp pain of a needle or dart. What I got instead was a very polite and civilized hello.

Since when do the whitecoats greet their victims before they torture them? I said nothing, made no indication that I have even heard him.

The man's voice was polite, but not very friendly. Cold and slippery, almost. I suppressed a small shiver as he continued.

"Don't bother ignoring me," he said in a tone that he would rather be somewhere, anywhere else. "I know you're listening. We need to talk."

_Of course we need to talk_, I thought bitterly in my head, _how about you tell me the way out of this place?_ However, I kept my mouth stubbornly shut.

But, we talked.

Actually, correction: _talking_ implies that there is understanding between the two parties. We...communicated. He spoke, and I tried to appear like I was neither listening nor trying to escape. Both of which failed, by the way.

But still, we talked. For a looooooooooong time. And eventually, some of those carefully-chosen, convincing words wormed their way into my mind, seeding doubt and feelings of betrayal.

I wish I could say that I resisted all of the whitecoat's efforts to make me doubt the goodness of the Flock, but I can't, 'cause that would be lying.

And, as we all know, lying is for traitorous people like the Flock.

**Short chapter, I know. **

**Hopefully, the next one will be better and longer!**

**Review? **


	10. Chapter 10

**Long time no update. Sorry...**

**Thanx go to: Tempe, :), Flight at Midnight, and Kitty Bridgeta, and special thanks go to Crashing Rain and emotionalpoemgirl for reviewing every chapter!**

**Oh, and the guy who talked to Iggy last time...well, lets just say he was some random (but very convincing) whitecoat. **

_In the dark  
the pain chips away at your heart  
so deep…  
Can't you see--  
see the light in the distance_

_--_Beautiful U R_, Deborah Cox_

Fang POV

Recurring dreams mean something, right? You know, the ones that play in your head over and over, even after you've woken up in a cold sweat. The ones that have you (almost) shivering at the realness of them, the ones that you just can't seem to escape, no matter how much you want to?

Yeah, those.

_Do_ they mean anything? I hope not.

You want to know about my dream? Are you sure you do?

Then here goes…

_The hallway looked oddly familiar._

_The brown-and-green plush carpet, the door—Max's door—at the end of the hallway, the overall fake cheeriness of everything…_

_Oh, wait. You've heard this before, haven't you?_

_Well, bear with me here._

_The aching longing in my heart was there, as usual. Telling me to get to the door to Max's room, find her. Telling me that everything's going to be okay once I've found her. _

_Get to the door, find Max, get to the door, find Max, get to the door, find Max…_

_I put one foot in front of me, hoping that with being closer to the door, my heart would feel slightly more satisfied. However the longing did not disappear—on the contrary, it intensified._

_Suddenly, the whole hallway faded away. Only Max's bedroom door—looking as bright and cheery and alluring as ever—remained, its modest wooden door standing out against the darkness._

_That was it. Darkness. There wasn't even so much as the friendly, faint light of a torch to guide my way this time. Just darkness, stretching into eternity in all directions._

_I hesitantly walked forwards a little, but soon, desire overcame fear. _

_I strode forwards, eager to see Max's face smiling at me as she had done before…to feel the soft silk of her hair…to see her warm, chocolately eyes gazing at me…_

_I ran, eager to see all of these things._

_My shoes slapped against the cold stone of the ground, but I couldn't make them hit the ground quieter. Nor did I care. All I wanted was to get to that door, and what lay beyond…_

_Finally, I reached the door. Standing about a foot away, I reached for the handle, but I couldn't quite seem to bring myself to grab it. I looked up, wondering why._

_There was another door, about a metre away. It was almost exactly the same as Max's, but blackened around the edges, and with curiously coloured smudges on the wood._

_It was Iggy's bedroom door._

_Iggy appeared beside it._

_He looked exactly the same as in that…mental image…the man projected into the Flock's minds, except for one thing._

_His pale blue eyes shone with mischief and friendship, welcoming. Iggy held his hands wide open._

"_Don't I get a hug, Fang?" he asked, smiling._

_I looked down at my hand, five centimetres away from Max's door handle. So close…_

"_Come on, Fang," Iggy exclaimed, "don't you think I deserve a hug? Or a word, even?"_

_My heart was aching to open Max's door, to find her, but to see Iggy standing there so welcoming, so unlike the image the was projected into my head…_

"_Fang." Iggy's smile lessened by a few centimetres. He began talking in his annoyed why-do-you-ignore-me voice that I knew so well. "Come on. Don't you think I should at least get a 'hello'?"_

_I tried to move my mouth to greet him, but I couldn't. _

_I knew I had a choice—either open the door and choose to be with Max, or to be with Iggy. It was either one or the other, but, either way, one would be lost to me forever. _

_The alive and welcoming, or the already-long-gone._

_The chance to fix a mistake that I made, or the chance to fix a mistake that Itex made._

_My (living) friend, or my (dead) best friend._

_Iggy or Max._

_Max or Iggy._

_Who should I choose?_

At that moment, I woke up. Well, kinda.

I cracked my eyes open and blinked blearily a few times. My legs were tied together, and my arms were bound behind my back. I licked my dry lips, then did a quick three-sixty.

I was in the back of a truck, with the rest of the Flock was slowly awakening as well, and was bound in the same way I was. It was pitch dark in the back, but through the window to the cab, I could make out the shapes of a driver and the telepathic man.

Apart from them, there were only Flyboys. _Lots_ of Flyboys. As in, so many that there was barely enough space to blink without hitting a furry-metal arm.

I groaned silently. Even if the Flock and I wanted to, even if we could, we could never escape this truck without killing ourselves in the process.

I met the Flock's eyes. They knew what I knew.

Suddenly, the telepathic man turned around. (Yes, this is what I would be calling him, unless a) he introduces himself or b) he dies. Personally, I am hoping for the latter.)

Nudges eyes grew wide and she inched backwards a bit.

I wondered why she was so afraid of this man. Then it hit me.

This was the man who she had sensed in Max's room. This was the creepy guy who had no will of his own, who took Max.

'Connections', was what the Voice was always saying to Max. Well, I see the connections now.

The telepathic man grinned slightly. _Are you all comfortable back there?_ He asked. Mentally, of course.

I glared. _Like you care._

His grin grew wider. _Of course I do._

The truck went over a bump in the road, making me knock my head painfully against the wall of the truck. The telepathic man was unfazed.

_I even care so much that I brought you all to the best medical facility in the nation._

My eyes widened slightly. I could tell where this conversation was going.

Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't say—

_Welcome to Itex._

* * *

Max POV

Darkness. Darkness as far as the eye could see, stretching out to infinity in all directions. Formless, shapeless darkness. And I was just a shadow, a tiny wisp of wind, in this ocean.

Was this heaven? Somehow, I doubted it.

I could hear a loud beating sound in the distance—the only sound in this place. It was almost like thunder, but continuous. Steady.

It was a heartbeat.

Mine.

**It wasn't my best chapter, I realize that...**

**Review?**


	11. Chapter 11

**Another late update. Sorry. I think I may have a tiny bit of author's block :P.**

**A hugs go to:**

**-Devourer Of TeleTubbies**

**-bookworm0313**

**-Tempe**

**-Laxgrl2222**

**-Bluejaygrl98**

**-emotionlpoemgirl**

**-Flight at Midnight**

**For reviewing!**

Max POV

That first day, I awoke conscious, but with no memory of the past. None. No memory of Fang, or of Angel, or of any other members of the Flock. Couldn't remember how to fight, to fly, couldn't remember why I had died.

The whitecoats panicked, going into full hospital mode, throwing around words like "post-trauma amnesia".

Luckily, though, my full memory returned by the third day.

Well, except for one thing.

I cannot remember why I committed suicide.

But I knew for certain that the Flock would not save me from Itex this time. This time, I would have to do it myself.

I'm not worrying. I have lots of time.

Maybe death has given me a whole new perspective on life. I seem to be more patient, more...sure of myself. I can feel some of the old Max coming back. After all, I've already died once. What more could they do to me?

...

I really shouldn't have asked that question.

* * *

Fang POV

This Itex building was just the same as all of the others: grey, square, and smack in the middle of nowhere. Chain link fences rose up around the Flock and I as we were marched into the courtyard, and cameras and sensors watched our every move. Overall, a very happy, warm, welcoming place.

Did you catch that bit of sarcasm?

Total trotted along beside us, oblivious to the Flyboys all around us, or of the creepy telepathic guy heading the group. He sniffed the ground in distain.

"Don't you guys have a decorator for this place? I mean, when buying a new place, one must set aside a little money for improving the aesthetic qualities of the property. This was obviously not the case here." He nimbly dodged a kick from one of the Flyboys.

Me? I wholeheartedly agreed with Total. I mean, if you're going to use millions of dollars solely to torture us mutants, at least make the place look halfway decent while you're at it. Grey and white don't really make a good impression on the bosses.

Total continued with his monologue. "Hmm…green would make a nice look for this building. Bright green. Or a nice shade of mauve…yeah that's it. A nice bright shade of mauve, with larger floor-to-ceiling windows. And hide those _hideous _barbed-wire fences with hedges. Or statues maybe…"

Angel giggled.

She was the strange one in the Flock. She was the only one who knew about my dreams, but she never mentions them. Angel was also the only one who knew the depth of my loss from Max's death, and the only one who could possibly stand a chance of remotely understanding the telepathic guy. Unfortunately, if she did, she made no indication of it.

Anyway, back to the story.

We were marched into the building complex, earning many curious (if apprehensive) glances from various whitecoats we met in the hallways. Huh. I guess five mutants escorted by two dozen Flyboys and a creepy telepathic dude isn't something you would see every day.

Soon, though, the telepathic guy led us to a door. (White again. Seriously, do any of you know of some good interior decorators around? Itex is in great need of them.)

Inside, were a nice row of shiny new cages, prepared specially for us.

_Get in_, was the order from—who else?—the telepathic guy.

The rest of the Flock met my eyes, silently asking me what they should do. I gave a curt nod, going into the first cage.

Nudge was the last to go in. Right before she did, she fixed me with a curious you-better-tell-me-what's-going-on stare.

I felt a pang in my heart. Max had perfected that exact look.

I quickly shook that thought away. Now was no time to be emo and kill myself thinking about Max. Now was the time to check my surroundings and worry whether the whitecoats have prepared a trap.

But who am I kidding? This whole adventure has been a trap, cleverly prepared and ingeniously planned. And we are now almost completely entangled in the net.

Right before leaving, the telepathic man turned and said, "I think there's someone in here that you know." He grinned an evil grin and swept out of the room, along with his entourage of Flyboys.

I swallowed. Who was in here? It wouldn't be someone like Omega or Ari, could it? They should be long dead. Maybe it was...

No. I can't think that, can't raise my hopes only to have them beaten back down.

I searched around the room for signs of the other person, before finding him in the cage behind us.

Oh no, oh no, oh no...

I would have preferred a hundred Omegas and Ari's to this.

The other person was Iggy.

And he was pissed.

Let me tell you something. You don't get Iggy angry. When he's angry, he's liable to go off and blow something up, preferably something of yours.

"What do you want?" he snarled into my face. So the mental image that got projected into my head _wasn't_ a fake.

My last hope crumbled and withered under Iggy's disgusted glare.

However, I automatically started to shoot something equally derisive back. But then, I got a good look at him.

Iggy was bone-thin. His hair hung in dirty clumps around his face, and his eyes had dark shadows underneath him. His face had a few yellowing bruises and the feathers on his wings were dull. Whatever the whitecoats were feeding him, it wasn't enough.

I am going to _kill_ whoever did this.

Iggy continued. "What? You've got nothing to say now? Good. I want nothing to do with you guys." He turned his back away from the Flock.

I turned to look at the rest of the Flock, and was faced with open, gawking mouths and hurt.

This was real. This was not a joke. This was not some hallucination. This was Iggy.

This was bad.

And you know something is bad if you hear _me_ saying it.

**I have this sinking feeling that my chapters are getting worse and worse in quality...**

**Review?**


	12. Chapter 12

**As usual, thanks go to all the awesome reviewers and readers of this story!**

Fang POV

Angel reached out and placed a hand on Iggy's shoulders. "Iggy, it's not what you think..." she began.

He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "shut up", smacked Angel's hand away, and shuffled even further away from us.

I think my heart just broke (if that was even possible after Max's death). Then my mind registered something.

_Angel?_ I thought loudly (if hesitantly) in my head, hoping that she would be able to hear. _What _does_ Iggy think?_

There was a long pause and I almost feared that she didn't hear, but then I felt her presence enter my mind.

_Iggy feels...betrayed. He thinks that we'__ve been using him all along; that the Flock only kept him because he could make bombs. Not showing up for five days didn't help much, either._

Wait—what? The Flock had been out cold for three days?

I could see the other Flock member's shocked faces, and knew that Angel was telling this to them as well. Good. They have the right to know.

Angel continued.

_Actually, I think that who he really hates the most is himself. He blames himself for Max's death. He thinks that if he had kept alert, he could have prevented her death. Plus, he thinks that he drags the Flock back._

No, Max's death was my fault. If I had realized that she had been hiding something, then none of this would have happened. Max would still be alive, Iggy uncorrupted, the younger Flock members happy—everyone would have been fine.

If only.

But Angel wasn't done yet.

_Iggy even blames himself for listening to the whitecoat._

Wait...what whitecoat?

Angel sighed audibly in my head. _The whitecoat who convinced him of all of this._

A whitecoat did this? Someone from Itex had somehow turned Iggy against us? Was killing Max not enough, so they had to try to take another away from us?

A thin haze of red tinged the corners of my vision, although I was almost sure that the rest of the Flock couldn't tell the depth of my anger.

_Fang! Get a hold of yourself!_ Angel shouted, and I realized that my fists were balled up so tightly that veins stood out.

Oh. Oops. I guess I kind of lost control of myself back there. That's right. Me, Fang lost control of myself. And I can't say I'm proud.

But my anger is perfectly justifiable, right?

Suddenly, the door opened and a couple of whitecoats came in bearing plates of food and bowls of water (foam plates and bowls, of course, so we couldn't, like, break them and use them as weapons). My stomach rumbled, and I remembered that I probably hadn't eaten in three days. They set the food in front of us, then backed out the door so quickly, you'd think we had disease or something.

I looked down. A small bowl of water, a slice of bread, and a quarter of an apple lay forlornly before me. This was what they fed us? No wonder Iggy was so thin.

I realized that Iggy didn't have any food. I turned around, and there he was facing me, staring longingly at the food.

Gazzy noticed as well, and he took the slice of bread and pushed it into Iggy's hand.

At first, Iggy looked like he was going to throw it back. however, he paused. He sniffed the food suspisciously, but began to eat. Through all of this, none of the Flock said a word, although we all watched intently.

I turned back to my own food. I was glad that Iggy trusted Gazzy enough to eat the bread, though it may have just been because of hunger. Hopefully, a few minutes with a whitecoat cannot erase a lifetime of belief. And that just gave me a little bit of hope for the future.

Just a little bit, though.

* * *

Did I ever tell you how boring it is stuck in a cage? If you're not being experimented on, or eating or sleeping, all there is to do is to stare at the blank wall counting holes (or, in this case, staring at a certain sleeping, blind Flock member and counting the number of breaths he took).

I had forgotten that, forgotten the boring monotony.

297 breaths...

298...

The door banged open, waking the Flock and making me jump by the suddenness of it.

The telepathic man, who was flanked by two dozen Flyboys, pointed a thin, bony finger at the Flock. "You're coming with us to the Director's room," he said, grinning as if this was some sort of honour, "The blind one too." One by one, he opened the doors of our cages.

The Flyboys tensed, as if we were going to escape. Well, they were going to be disappointed—the Flock knew better then to try to escape from inside an Itex facility unarmed and surrounded by gun-toting Flyboys. Plus, I was curious to hear what this Director had to say.

And so, like good little mutants, we obediently crawled out and stood, stretching and yawning in the Flyboys' faces. Hey, I never said that we were models of respect.

The telepathic man frowned, displeased. "Follow me," he said.

Another thing I don't think I have told you is how freaking _huge_ an Itex building is. With the maze-like hallways, and the uniformly white walls and doors, it's a wonder that any of the whitecoats can find their way around. But I tried to keep track of where we were going, just in case, you know, our talk with the Director had went wrong and we needed to get to somewhere we knew in a hurry.

You know, when I was younger I have always imagined that someday the whitecoats would be unable to find their way out, and eventually die and rot in the passageways that were so similar to the maze tests they were always making us run. I imagined them collapsing against the white walls, exhausted, slowly starving...

Anyway. Moving on.

Pausing beside yet another white door, the telepathic man paused—trying to get his bearings, I presumed. I let my gaze wander, letting it rest upon the black plaque on the door.

EXPERIMENT ROOM

And beneath it, in smaller red letters:

WARNING. POSSIBLE DANGEROUS EXPERIMENT INSIDE. DO NOT ENTER UNLESS WITH DIRECTOR'S PERMIT.

Curious as to what experiment was inside, I peered through the small window beside the door. What was inside took my breath away.

It was Max.

And she was alive.

Still slightly pale, yes. Looking kind of angry, sure. Thin and leaning tiredly against the wall, definitely.

But it was Max, _the_ Maximum Ride.

It was Max, and she was alive.

Max was alive.

It seemed too good to be true, and I rubbed my eyes, just in case they were playing tricks on me.

But part of me already knew that wasn't the case.

I noticed the Flock (excluding Iggy) looking at me strangely. I just shook my head and pointed to the window. I tugged on Iggy's sleeve, and when he glared at me, I pointed towards the window. Everything here was white—surely he could see.

There was a pause, then the hushed whispers started, coming excitedly from elated Flock members.

"It's Max!"

"She's alive!"

"The whitecoats must have reanimated her!"

"Fang, is this really true?"

Guess who didn't say anything? Right. Iggy, although I knew that he saw Max.

But I paid him no thought. After all, Max was here, Max was _alive_.

All too soon, the telepathic guy started walking again, and a Flyboy poked me in the back, urging me to get moving.

But before I did, I took one last look through the window, at Max.

She was staring at me, and for a second, our eyes met. Chocolate-brown to black.

But then, the Flyboy shoved me forwards, and the connection was lost.

That was okay. I knew Max was here. Max knew I (and the rest of the Flock) was here.

And with her, soon, the Flock would escape. Soon.

I guess I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I hadn't realized that we had arrived at the Director's room until I bumped into Nudge in front of me.

The Director's door was large and silvery-grey, a nice change from the plain white the Flock and I have been staring at for the past who-knows-how-long.

The telepathic man opened the door, and said a respectful "We have arrived," to the Director.

This was it. We were going into the dragon's lair.

But all I could think of was Max.

**Sorry if the Flock was a little OOC. But oh well.**

**Review?**


	13. Chapter 13

**Yes, it's another chapter!**

**Thanks to:  
**

**-Laxgrl2222**

**-Tempe**

**-Bluejaygrl98**

**-Maximumridefan15**

**-FAXGURL**

_But a bird that stalks  
down his narrow cage  
can seldom see through  
his bars of rage  
his wings are clipped and  
his feet are tied__  
__so he opens his throat to sing._

_The caged bird sings with fearful trill  
of __the things__ unknown but longed for still  
and is tune is heard on the distant hill, for the caged bird  
sings of freedom_

_--from _I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, _by __Maya Angelou_

Fang POV

Reasons why this is a bad situation:

1. the room is grey and dimly-lighted (don't the scientists have enough money to pay their electricity bills?)

2. there are no windows, and the door is locked and is presumably made of steel

3. the two-dozen Flyboys seemed to have followed us inside

Luckily, I seemed to have shaken off my halfway-cationic state that had resulted from finding Max. But still, you should know that if you lock the Flock, some Flyboys, and a psychotic megalo-maniac into the same room, the end result is not very pretty. This has been proven numerous times by various whitecoats around the world.

This Director seems more psycho than the others, though. A plump-ish man looking to be in his early forties, he had the evil-scientist look totally going for him (although he somehow looked awfully familiar).

The Director sat in a high-backed chair behind a huge oak desk, which had nothing on it except for a pen and a single sheet of paper.

His eyes were beady and his greying hair tossed every which way. And although his grey suit was neatly pressed and all that, he gave off the image that he hasn't been sleeping well or cleaning himself up as much as he should have.

Not that I was a poster-child for cleanliness, though. I couldn't remember when was the last time I had showered, though it must have been right before the Flock set out to rescue Iggy--what, five days ago?

But, anyway, the Director was saying something, and I decided to listen just in case he, like, decided to give us a pop quiz at the end of this 'meeting' or something.

"As you might know, I am Alexander Martinez, older brother to Valencia Martinez. But, of course, you probably already know that from what you've read off my computer."

Of course. No wonder this guy looked so familiar—he was the guy whose information Nudge had found. I felt like slapping my forehead at the obviousness of it all.

And, _of course_, the guy was smart enough to track our hacking back to our laptop, and, thus, figure out who we were.

Mr. Martinez continued speaking. "But I know plenty about your so-called 'Flock' as well, so I guess it's pretty even there." He smiled a thin-lipped smile worthy of a rattlesnake.

Did I mention how smooth and sickly-sweet his voice was? It was the voice of a person who could talk anyone into doing anything, the voice of a schemer who knows that he could do practically anything. It was the voice of power.

No wonder he was the Director of two Itex facilities.

"You know, I've been interested in you guys for a long time," he said, standing up and starting to pace the floor in front of us (well, the limited amount of floor in this cramped room), twirling his little pen every once in a while. "Especially your…abilities. You, Fang, with your camouflaging. Iggy with your talent with explosives. Nudge, with your magnetic powers, Gazzy with your…gas. And Angel. Angel. You have no idea how excited I am about what you can do!"

I startled a bit when I realized how much Mr. Martinez knew about us, though I should have realized that with him, almost anything is possible.

"What about Max?" Nudge questioned, rebellious.

Mr. Martinez waved that question away, as if it wasn't even important for thought, and continued his narrative.

"Finding you guys was incredibly easy after you hacked into my computer. All my techs had to do was to trace your signal. Of course, we had to be careful. What can be traced can be traced back, but you never even tried.

"Capturing you was slightly harder, although easier than I had anticipated. All in all, I was slightly disappointed. The Flock has such _reputation_, and I had had expected a better chase. After all, all the fun is in the hunt." He laughed humourlessly.

By this time, Max probably would have snapped half a dozen witty and sarcastic at Mr. Martinez. But I was no Max, and neither was the Flock. All my brain could handle doing now was to listen to this man's half-crazed monologue.

"But now that you are here, I will make you a preposition." Mr. Martinez's face was deadly serious now. "I will make you the same proposition that I had made for your 'leader', Maximum Ride. You know of it, do you not? If not, then I will state it again: work with me, and you will benefit. Work against me, and you and all of your loved ones will die. No matter how useful one may seem, one is worthless without the ability to obey, as your Max surely has learned."

"Don't you regret Max's death at all?" I surprised myself by shouting, "Or did you plan that to happen, as well?"

For once, Mr. Martinez seemed genuinely surprised. "Plan? No, I didn't plan for her death at all. However, it worked well enough in the end for me—actually, it had done what I wanted to do for ages."

"What do you have against Max?" Angel—polite, well-tempered Angel—snapped. Her hair was wild and her eyes huge; she looked enraged in a way _no_ seven-year-old should ever look.

Mr. Martinez grinned as if this was the question he wanted to answer all along. "Why would you think that, my dear Angel? I have absolutely nothing against Max, or, indeed, any of you. Valencia Martinez is the one I hate."

**Review?**


	14. Chapter 14

**Thank you to everyone's who reviewed!**

**And now, on with the chapter...**

_...From ancient grudge break to new mutiny_

_Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. _

_-Romeo and Juliet, prologue_

The entire room seemed to be holding its breath, watching Mr. Martinez pace in front of us, waiting to hear what he was going to say next.

Finally, he stopped, and looked up. He began to speak in a low whisper.

"Yes, how I hate Valencia." He spat out the word like it was some sort of despicable poison. "How goody-goody she was, how stuck-up. How she was forever outdoing me in everything. How our parents doted on her. How they granted her every wish.

"Oh, yes, they spoiled her. They bought her the finest clothing, the best toys; they gave her the best of the food. After all, she was their _perfect_ child, unlike me. Yes, I admit that I was a little rowdy and adventurous in those days, but aren't parents supposed to love their children equally? But, no. They completely ignored me, while they watched and congratulated her every move. My parents spoiled her rotten, even and especially when we grew up. She wanted to be a veterinarian when she grew up, so from whose meager collage fund did my parents 'borrow' money from to ensure that she went to the best of schools? Mine! And I ended up in the cheapest school in the country, working my fingers to the bone to pay for my education!"

Spittle flew out of Mr. Martinez's mouth and his movements grew jerkier as he recalled some distant memory.

I actually kind of felt sorry for the guy. After all, it must have been depressing to be ignored all the time, to be shoved aside for the benefits of another. But still, that was no excuse for hating somebody.

There was an eerie silence, and I realized that Mr. Martinez had stopped. I looked up and saw, with a shock, that he was staring straight into my eyes.

"Maximum's death was a tragedy, true, but it had achieved what I had never been able to do. It had caused Valencia pain." It was like being hypnotized by a snake, staring into his eyes. With much effort, I forced myself to look away, and Mr. Martinez continued with his narrative.

Unexpectedly, his mouth quirked up into a self-satisfied grin.

"Pain. That's all I had felt since I was a child, all I had received. And now, I can make Valencia experience what I had had to bear with all these years." His eyes glittered wildly as he spoke, "Of course, it _did_ throw a slight wrench in my plans, but that can be fixed. I never had understood Bachelder's infatuation with Maximum. After all, what do I need with her when I have all of you?" Mr. Martinez returned to his seat behind his desk, as if suddenly tired.

"So, remember my offer: help me do what is needed and have more power than you've ever dreamed of, or refuse, and die."

The last word seemed to hang in the air long after the sentenced had finished. The whole Flock visibly stiffened.

For a second, Mr. Martinez stared at me, as if wondering why I wasn't swearing my loyalties to him that very second. I rolled my eyes at him.

He frowned, and snapped his fingers in a businesslike manner to telepathic man (who was standing very patiently in the corner all this time, I may add).

"Escort them back," he ordered, then turned to us. "You have twenty-four hours to make up your mind. If you refuse, well, you know the cost. The life of your precious Maximum Ride is at stake, along with yours." Seeing our widening eyes, he smiled thinly. "Do not think you can hide anything from me, my friends. I have eyes and ears everywhere."

Suddenly, as if bored with this discussion, he turned his chair so that it was facing away from us. "Dismissed," he said curtly, sounding for all the world like an innocent school-teacher dismissing his class at the end of the day.

Ha. He was anything but.

The Flock and I were led outside, once again into the blinding white light of the hallways.

I had made up my mind. I knew what we needed to do. And I knew that we needed to do it now.

I made eye contact with the rest of the Flock, then touched my nose with my fingers and pointed them down the hallway.

The Flock signal for _escape_.

They seemed relieved and nodded fugitively--even Iggy agreed, warily. I was pleased to see that the whitecoats hadn't polluted his mind so much that he's lost his instinct for survival, although I had a feeling that he was going to ditch the Flock the moment we stepped outside.

I glanced around for any possible threats, but except for the Flyboys, the telepathic man (who was standing still as stone—taking orders, I bet), and the occasional blinking red light of a security camera, we were the only ones in the hallway. Good.

I raised three fingers up. Count of three.

One…

Now was the best chance to make a run for it. We've already seen how scheming and crazy Mr. Martinez was, and no way were we going to agree to his plans.

Two…

Plus, we've found Max! All we have to do is to free her from the room, and find a way out of the building. This is the best time to do that, when Itex is least expecting it.

Three…

And, okay. I was afraid. Afraid of being killed, afraid of seeing others killed, afraid of Mr. Martinez's unpredictability, afraid of the future. Anything and everything can go wrong with this escape attempt, and the Flock had so much to lose.

Go!

But now was not the time to be thinking about that.

I ran, leading the Flock.

I ran, trying to escape Itex and its plans.

I ran, away from the creepy telepathic man, from the Flyboys, from Mr. Martinez.

I ran, to what I hoped would be Max's room.

I ran.

**I realize that Fang is changing his mind a lot about escaping and such, but remember, he just wants the best for the Flock.**

**Review?**


	15. Chapter 15

**Thanks to all the people who reviewed! That includes:**

**-Flight at Midnight**

**-emotionalpoemgirl**

**-Tempe**

**-blackbird147**

**-Crashing Rain**

Fang POV

The Flock and I ran through the spotlessly white corridors of Itex.

There was one whitecoat up ahead, but she leaped aside and cowered against the wall the moment she saw us, fear evident in her eyes. I guess seeing half a dozen adrenaline-fuelled mutants pursued by hulking, battle-ready Flyboys can do that to a person.

There was a blaring alarm sounding through the building—warning others of our escape, I guess, and when we reached an intersection, we could see Flyboys ahead _and_ behind us.

Crap.

"Everyone, split up!" I shouted, no longer caring who might overhear, "Try to get out—I'll find Max!"

The Flock scattered down different hallways, each with Flyboys following them. I sprinted to the one nearest to me.

If I remember correctly, this is the passageway that leads to Max's room. I think.

But before I get Max, I need to lose some of these Flyboys that are trailing me.

Abruptly, I ducked into an open doorway, promising myself that I'll double back later.

Inside, there was a another, though shorter, hallway with doors branching off. Good.

Hopefully before any Flyboys saw me, I crept into the third door to my right. Thank goodness it was unlocked, or else I would have been in huge trouble.

The room was huge and full of cages and microscopes and beakers, all with a thin layer of dust—it must be a storage room. It was almost dark except for the strip of light from slightly ajar door.

Slinking into a shadowy corner, I blended into the darkness and slowly began inching towards the doorway. Outside, I heard the heavy footsteps of several Flyboys run past the door, then fading.

Smirking slightly, I took another silent step forwards and…

Crashed into a table covered with beakers.

_Smash!_

Crap, crap, crap—

Shaking loose broken bits of glass, I ran for the door.

Of all stupid things to do while hiding from Flyboys, this had _had_ to be the stupidest. I might as well have held up a bright neon sign saying 'I'm here! Pick me!'

Great, just great.

I grabbed snatched the handle of the door and pulled it open. And I came face to face with a grinning Flyboy.

Without thinking, I smashed my fist into his face.

The Flyboy fell backwards revealing a hallway packed with about ten Flyboys.

A dozen was okay, I fought of a dozen before. Well, with the rest of the Flock, but still.

I round-house kicked the first one in the chest, then swung around and hit him at the base of his spine. Elbowing another who was trying to sneak up behind me, I punched him in the jaw while kicking a Flyboy in the stomach, watching him double over, and karate-chopping him.

But all this time, I realized that I was getting pushed farther and farther back into the room. Soon, I wouldn't have any room to manoeuvre.

A Flyboy punched me in the chest. Hard. I staggered back a few steps, struggling for breath. Another one of the furry robots kicked me behind the knee and I almost toppled over. Almost.

By sheer willpower, I managed to stay upright, and I scanned the room for something I could use against the Flyboys. A weapon was always good. Hit an opponent with something hard or sharp and chances are, he won't get up again.

I grabbed the thing nearest to me (a metal bar—presumably from a cage of some sort) and swung it at the next Flyboy's head. My momentum caused me to hit the Flyboy _behind_ him, knocking the second one unconscious. Score.

With the metal in my hand, the Flyboys were quickly dispatched. I watched the light in the last one's eyes fade, then scanned the room for any others. Nope. Just crushed and smashed equipment.

Whoops. I hope the whitecoats weren't planning to use this stuff anytime soon.

By now, the rod was bent and broken so I dropped the useless piece of metal to the ground and sprinted out of the room.

Once again in the building's main hallways, I ran, hoping that I wouldn't meet any other Flyboys. The alarm was still blaring annoyingly loud as I ran along on my way to Max's room.

Or at least, I _think_ this was the route.

I turned right, dashed down yet another short corridor, then turned left. If I remembered right, then the next door would be Max's room.

Abruptly, I skidded to a stop. The hallway ended with only a single door.

Footsteps sounded behind me.

Praying that this door led to another series of hallways, I quickly turned the knob and slipped inside.

Oh, no.

Behind the door was an office. A single, tiny office--I was trapped.

The door creaked open, and I desperately tried to blend into the walls.

A cold voice murmured, "Do not even bother."

It was the telepathic man.

* * *

Third person POV

The voice had been with him almost ever since he could remember.

It spoke softly in his mind, never shouting, never screaming, just quietly nudging him towards the right path. Its voice was smoother than the sweetest honey, its tone soft and polite.

He couldn't quite remember the time when he _didn't _have the voice in his mind, when the small shadow of its presence never existed. All he could remember was…children, children sitting at desks in a room while he stood at the front, pointing to something on a…black wall-plate of some sort.

And he could remember a woman, a graceful woman with a beautiful, tinkling laugh and a diamond ring on her left ring finger. Of course he remembered the ring. He had given it to her.

And when he searched far, far back into the darkest corners of his mind, he remembered terror, and pain, and horrific wolf-men-like monsters with teeth like daggers, and the fearful uncertainty of being captured…

The voice did not like his remembering. The present is what is being lived, it always said, and so the present is what is important. Whatever happened in the past is long gone, and inconsequential.

And he obeyed the voice. He _always_ obeyed the voice. After all, it was always right.

But sometimes, in the darkest hour of the night, he would think upon those memories, recollect what little he still had, and wondered what had happened. How he had came to be here, in this huge, white, maze-like building with a voice in his head.

But whatever it was, it must not have been important since he had forgotten most of it already, he reassured himself while burying that last memory deep within his consciousness.

But now, staring down at the strange, winged, dark-haired boy, he felt the memory resurfacing. That fear, that horrified expression of being trapped, he _knew_ all of that, had experienced it before.

Granted, the boy did not show these emotions on his face, but he could feel them, fluttering at the edge of the boy's mind. The boy was afraid of him.

There were other emotions as well, of course. There was rage, at the scientists, at the Director, at _him_. There was worry, for the others of his kind and hope that they had escaped this…Itex building?

There was also a hunger, a longing to be with someone, to just enjoy the presence of another, of…

But of course, the particulars of this strange boy's mind were not important. What was important was capturing him and bringing him back to the Director. The voice had said so.

He took a step forwards, towards the boy, who was searching around the room for a weapon of some sort. Pointless. A weapon did nothing to him.

_Do not even bother_, he said, speaking into the boy's mind. Somehow, they always listened when he spoke like that.

Something clanked against his thigh, reminding him of the thing in his pocket and of his promise to return it. The voice did not want him to return it, but it seemed like the right thing to do. And it was always important to do the right thing, right? He had retained enough of his past to remember that, at least.

_Get closer__!_ A voice—_the_ voice sounded in his mind.

He was pleasantly surprised. The voice almost never spoke with him while he was completing his assignment. It must mean this assignment was important.

Good. He liked important.

He took another step forwards, and the boy backed away. Now, the boy had his back against the wall.

_Tell the boy that everything would be fine if he just comes with you. Tell him that, although his actions were __appalling, the Director has generously decided to forgive him, if he comes quietly._

He relayed the instructions to the boy, through their mental contact.

The boy's eyes widened slightly. "How stupid do you think I am?" he snarled, "Why would I spend so much effort to escape if I would just surrender anyway? I'll fight for my freedom, whether you want it or not!"

_Repeat the instructions._

He did.

Without warning, the boy charged at him, his mind a swirling ball of anger and determination.

_Quick! Shoot him with your tranquilizer gun!_

He side-stepped the charge, then pulled out the tranquilizer gun he always kept hanging from his belt. He shot the boy in the leg before he could do more damage.

The boy slowly sunk to the ground, his eyes horrified as he realized that his escape had failed. The boy's last conscious thought was, _I'm sorry, Max._

He frowned, hearing this thought. Who was Max?

Picking up the boy's limp body, he left the room, went down the hallway, and went inside the room where the strange winged children were kept before. Ironic that the boy was only a dozen metres away from the place he had wanted to go the least.

He deposited the boy in one of the larger cages to the right, and locked the cage door. The rest of the winged children hadn't been captured yet.

Later, he would tell some of the robot wolf-men (they were good wolf-men, not bad like the ones in his memories) to guard the cages. Ordering wolf-men around was good. It made him feel important.

Looking at the boy, he wondered again who this 'Max' was. He decided to look into this boy's mind, just to satisfy his curiosity.

Happiness. That was the first feeling that he sensed within this boy's mind. Happiness and feeling _whole_, like you had finally found your other half.

He frowned. He knew happiness was good, but he couldn't quite remember what it was. In the end, he decided that happiness was pleasing the voice by following orders well.

There was also a strong affection for this 'Max', who he discovered was a brown haired, brown eyed winged girl. Something like…what was the word again? Right. Love.

He withdrew from the boy's mind. He had seen enough.

This winged girl—Max—she reminded him of another female. A young woman. One with a beautiful laugh and sparkling brown eyes and a diamond ring on her left ring finger.

His heart ached for this woman, though he had no idea why.

The heavy weight in his pocket reminded him of his promise to himself.

On an impulse, he reached into his pocket and pulled the thing out.

The thing was a heavy thing, with a string hanging from it that was made from what looked like old socks. He didn't want to keep it longer than he had to, and he decided to just give it to the boy now.

The thing meant a lot to the winged children, particularly the young blond boy. That was why he had kept it in the first place, even after the rest of the objects in the winged children's bag were thrown away or detonated.

It was important to the winged children. Giving it back would be the right thing to do. Doing the right thing was good.

That thought solidified his decision.

Crouching down, he pushed the thing through the bars of the boy's cage and placed gently under the boy's limp fingers. The boy would surely find it when he woke.

Dully, he registered a strong sense of disapproval and anger from the voice, but since it did not know what it was (well, nor did he) and it didn't actually speak out against the action, he, for the first time ever, ignored it.

Anyway, giving it back felt _right_ somehow, like as if the mere action put his mind at rest.

But even if it did not do that, he probably would have given the boy the object anyway, for the sake of the woman with the tinkling laughter and the ring. She always liked doing the right thing, he dimly remembered. She was _good_.

And he wanted to be good as well, so he had given the object back to the boy.

He did it for the woman.

**There, a long(er) chapter. It was actually really fun to write...**

**Hope it wasn't too boring :P.**

**Review?**


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry, sorry, SORRY for not updating in so long.**

**Grr…homework.**

**Thanks to all of my awesome readers and reviewers who all deserve HUGS. **

**Now, on with the chapter!**

Max POV

Stupid loud, freakishly-annoying, blaring siren…

Idiotic headache-inducing ear-piercing alarm bell…

The siren overhead paid no heed to my mental ranting.

Believe me, there's nothing worse than being trapped in a small room with shrill, irritating siren blaring for who-knows-how-long. And with my hearing far more sensitive than normal people, it was torture.

I groaned inwardly, and clapped my hands over my ears in a vain attempt to block the noise out.

But still, the warning bell gave me a small seed of hope.

I've been at enough Schools and Itex buildings to know that this was the signal that experiments were escaping. And most of the time, the experiments were the Flock.

I could only hope that Fang and the rest of the Flock have escaped, or at least, on their way out.

And maybe they would remember me, and come back to free me, and we would all get out of this place together, and defeat the bad guys, and return to Mom's house…

Yeah, and maybe hedgehogs would fly.

I'd be surprised if the Flock could have found me at all, considering the maze-like layout of this building.

And maybe the one(s) who are escaping aren't even the Flock…they could be some other experiment who decided on the spur of the moment to make a break for it.

But one can hope, right?

Suddenly, _finally_, the siren stopped.

Ahh…sweet, sweet silence.

Wait…

That could mean only one of two things: either the Flock have been captured, or they had escaped. Hopefully, it was the second one. Hopefully.

But, either way, I've got to find my own way out. Right now, the whitecoats weren't paying me much attention, but that was sure to change soon. I looked around the tiny room.

Hmm…plain white walls, clean floor, no windows, pile of crumpled blankets in the corner…

The whitecoats have gone out of their way to keep me trapped here. They even give me food through a small, cat-flap-like thing in the door. Usually locked, of course.

Of course, I could always use the blankets to snare a whitecoat and get them to open the door for me…

Yeah, right.

I wanted, needed an escape plan.

And soon.

* * *

Fang POV

I blinked drowsily, struggling to get my mind off sleep mode.

Huge silver bars leapt into my view and I jumped up, battle-ready.

Unfortunately, there was a low roof overhead.

_Ow!_ I rubbed the back of my head, realising that I was—once again—trapped in a cage.

"'Bout time you woke up," a voice muttered behind me.

Whirling around—carefully this time—I came face to face with Iggy in the cage behind me.

"How long have you been awake?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "Who knows? Longer than you, at least."

Looking around, I noticed that we were the only ones in the room. "Where is the rest of the Flock?"

"Escaped." Unexpectedly, Iggy grinned, "You should have seen the whitecoats' faces when they whipped out their wings and flew away."

Really? For a moment, I felt satisfaction. At least the younger members of the Flock were free. Hopefully, if they had any brains at all, they would be halfway to Texas by now.

I opened my mouth to ask him something else when something clanked against my foot.

I looked down and saw…the old-sock bomb.

Was this what the whitecoats decided to do to us? To blow us up? I suppressed my initial panic and resisted jumping backwards, away from the bomb. After all, what would the whitecoats gain by blowing us—and themselves—up?

I reached down and picked it up.

Now, I'm just Max's second-in-command. Gazzy and Iggy are the Flock's pyromaniacs. But I know enough about bombs to know that this one was not about to detonate.

But if it's not to blow us up, then what was it doing here?

I had assumed that Itex had just disposed of the Flock's bomb collection. But apparently not.

Maybe this was a test, or something…

"What's going on?" a voice cut through my thoughts.

"See for yourself." No offense intended.

Iggy scowled, but took the bomb I held out. His face turned to disbelief.

"Is this—"

"Yeah."

I took it from his hands. A plan started forming in my mind.

"Iggy," I asked, rolling it between my hands, "you know how to detonate this thing, right?"

"Of course. I _designed_ it. But it's on a timer, you can't technically detonate it. Why?"

Even better.

I answered his question. "Well, I have an idea of how to escape…"

Iggy did not seem convinced. "How? Threaten the whitecoats with a homemade bomb made by a blind guy and an eight-year-old?"

"Close."

"…What? You mean you're actually gonna believe that they're going to believe you? And free us?"

"There's a possibility…when the Flyboys come to get us tomorrow, we could feint faintness, then knock them out when they unlock the cage doors. We run outside, plant the bomb somewhere in the facility, find Max," I still thrilled at the word, "…and escape. There we go. Freedom, and the destruction of this facility at the same time." Yes, it was crazy. But also means unpredictable, which was good. Anyhow, it wouldn't hurt to try.

At least, it would not hurt _much_.

Iggy stared at me. "Please tell me that isn't your plan."

"Actually, it is."

"You've got to be kidding me! You'll get all of us killed!" He leaned the cage bars, folding his arms. "Well, you can carry out your escape plan. I won't have any part in it."

What? "But you're the only one here who can work the bomb."

"So? That's not going to make me work with you."

"Really, Iggy. I—we, the Flock need you. Please help."

He just snorted.

Great.

We have a pyro. We have a way out. And we have a useless bomb.

Just great.

**-sigh- Over a week and I still can't make this chapter sound right…**

**Review? **


	17. Chapter 17

**Thanks to emotionalpoemgirl and Tempe for reviewing the last chapter!**

**And to blackbird147: Sorry I didn't reply in the last chapter...Get Back Up by Tobymac is an awesome song and your right, it does fit Maximum Ride really well. Have you heard other songs by Tobymac? He's an awesome music artist.**

Nudge POV

Angel, Nudge, Gazzy, Total, and I sat on a rocky cliff edge overlooking a clear lake. Birds swooped and glided around us, and, far in the distance was the dim outline of the Itex building.

"That sure took a long time, getting those Flyboys off our trail," I muttered. It sure did take a long time, as well as two hours, twelve kilometres, three false trails, and a lot of fancy manoeuvres, courtesy of yours truly.

Angel nodded tiredly, while Gazzy was being uncharacteristically quiet. Total was snoring on the rocks.

Not that I should be talking, of course. The chase took a lot out of us.

"Are Fang and Iggy and Max still in the building?" I asked for what felt like the hundredth time. But I needed to know…to organize a rescue. Without the three oldest Flock members, it was my responsibility to take care of the Flock.

"Yeah," Angel replied. "We should try to rescue them soon."

I nodded in agreement, and then noticed Gazzy turning something over in his hand.

"What's that?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

Gazzy turned towards me, grinned unexpectedly. "A bomb."

My eyes widened. "Didn't the Itex people take them?"

"Apparently not. They missed one…I found it in my pocket when we were getting chased by the Flyboys. We could use it to rescue Fang, Max, and Iggy!"

"How?" Angel asked.

"Well, technically, we don't need to use it for rescuing them specifically," Gazzy explained, "But we could use it to blow the facility up after."

"That's a great idea!" I replied, "But we should act quickly, when the whitecoats are least expecting us."

Angel stood up, hair blowing around her face in the breeze. "Why not now?" she asked in a commanding manner most commonly seen on Max.

All thoughts of fatigue forgotten, Gazzy and I quickly got up. We woke up Total and explained our plan to him, and with few complains (mostly from Total), we jumped off the cliff and snapped out our wings.

We were off.

* * *

Max POV

_Previously: __I wanted, needed an escape plan. And soon._

Suddenly, the loud _click_ of a lock opening signalled the arrival of my lunch. I slunk over to the door while contemplating various ideas for escape and some whitecoat on the other side passed me some bread, water, and fruit through the cat flap.

I leaned so my back was against the door, munching on the food, still thinking.

The whitecoat behind the door seemed oddly flustered, dropping the keys several times. In the distance, I could hear something clank and shatter, and the whitecoat cursed quietly under her breath. Finally, she stuck the key in, turned it to lock the cat flap, and hurried off.

Already finished with my meal, I tossed the foam plate off to the side and made to get up, but found that part of my shirt sleeve had been caught in the cat flap. Frowning, I crouched down and tugged on it hard.

The cloth came out…and so did the cat flap.

It wasn't swinging free, of course, but it was sticking out of its usual place far more than it should.

My sleeve must have prevented the lock from locking properly.

An idea popped into my mind.

Wedging my fingernails in the tiny gap between the flap and the door, I slowly pulled the flap out so that it hung from its hinges freely.

I reached up, _through_ the opening, searching for the handle on the other side of the door. The flap was an uncomfortable weight against my back, but I stretched my arm as far as I could.

There.

I could feel the small indent of the key hole on the end of the metallic door knob.

Feeling a small sense of satisfaction, I withdrew my hand. I had the beginnings of an escape plan forming in my mind, and I looked around the room for a tool I could use to implement it.

I needed a lock pick.

Carefully replacing the flap so passing whitecoats wouldn't see anything suspicious, I looked around the room for a thin piece of metal, or plastic, or _anything_. Nope. Nothing. The whitecoats have made sure that there wasn't anything thin and sharp I could use as a weapon or, say, a lock pick.

I sighed and walked back over to the cat flap and pulled it back out, seeing if there was another possibility of escape.

There wasn't, but there was a nice thin strip of metal loose on the bottom edge of the flap.

That must have been what snagged my shirt sleeve in the first place. No matter.

I stuck my fingers underneath the strip, and tried to lever it out. It gave way for a while, then…

Got stuck.

I looked closer at the strip and saw that the end was welded to the bottom edge. Great.

Frustrated, I grabbed the loose end and tugged at it, ignoring the pain as the sharp edge cut into my skin. Under too much pressure, it broke.

Now, I had a short thin metal strip, a (hopefully) lock-pickable lock, and a bleeding hand.

Good enough--and I didn't think the strip was_ too_ short to use.

But the hand…it was too similar to my memories of putting a blade to my wrist and pressing down, feeling veins and tendons come apart and my lifeblood dripping out of me…

I still can't remember exactly why I did it, and that hole in my memory was a constant thorn in my side.

But now was not the time for memories (or, in this case, lack of them). Now was the time for escape.

Gritting my teeth as the metal sent twinges of pain into my cut hand, I stuck my arm out the flap and set to work on the lock.

* * *

Fang POV

_Previously:_ _We have a pyro. We have a way out. And we have a useless bomb. Great. _

I leaned my head back against the cage bars, and tried one last time to convince Iggy.

"C'mon Iggy…why won't you escape?" A sudden thought struck my mind. "Is it because you're afraid to be left behind?"

"No! Of course not." Iggy exclaimed, but I could see the lie in his eyes.

Of course he was afraid. Why wouldn't he be? He was in a hostile and unfamiliar place, surrounded by enemies and those that he thinks are his enemies.

But the best choice now was to simply escape. Mr. Martinez had given us a day to make our decision, and I sure wasn't going to agree to his plans anytime soon. If I guessed correctly, then we have almost an hour until the time was over.

But then again, what do I know?

"Don't lie, Iggy."

"But I'm not!"

"Look, we both know you _are_, so cut to the chase and tell me why you're so afraid you would pass up a chance to escape."

A long pause.

Minutes stretched on as Iggy stared down at the floor of his cage, contemplating, so I assumed, whether to tell me or not.

Suddenly, his head snapped up and he looked me in the eye. "How do I know you're not going to leave me behind?" The fire behind his eyes intensified, challenged me to say the opposite.

"Why would I leave you behind?"

"Maybe so you can escape without a blind dead weight to slow you down. Maybe so you would have a better chance of getting to Max and getting out alive. Face it, Fang. We both know you would choose Max over anyone else. You have the bomb in your hands. You can do whatever you want with it, you have complete control over our escape. How am I supposed to know you're not going to ditch me the first chance you get?" Iggy's eyes challenged me, but his voice showed me the oceans of worry and doubt he was facing.

I was flabbergasted, to say the least. "You can't know…you have to trust m—" I stopped.

Because you really _can't_ know for sure. Because, if you had lived a life like us, or had believed the words Iggy has, you _can't_ trust.

And that was why Iggy was so against the escape plan.

I opened my mouth to say something, _anything_, but before I could get a word out, the door swung open.

A large group of Flyboys marched into the room, headed by—no, not the telepathic man—but a giant, grey-furred Flyboy.

Too late.

Without the bomb, with or without Iggy agreement, now was the time to put my plan into action.

But one thing was for sure, if I get out of this building, I'm bringing Iggy along with me.

**Review?**


	18. Chapter 18

**Thanks to:**

**-first flight**

**-blackbird147**

**-Tempe**

**-emotionalpoemgirl**

Nudge POV

At 80 metres up in the air, the Itex facility almost looked like a normal business building. Operative being _almost_. The barbed-wire fences and the armed Flyboy guards kind of give it away, but who in their right mind would fly miles and miles into the middle of nowhere to look for a building? Apart from the obvious, I mean.

Funny how a supposedly smart institution spends who-knows-how-many millions of dollars on guards when, here we are, hovering leisurely over the centre of the building's roof. The Flyboys never bother to look up or backwards.

"Ready for the rescue mission?" I asked Angel, Gazzy, and Total. They nodded. "Remember Gazzy, have the bomb ready." I grinned and murmured to myself, "They'll never know what's hit them."

We dropped lower, and lower until we were barely ten metres 'til landing on the roof. It was only then that I saw the blinking red light on the grey roof of the building. A camera.

Oh, oh.

"Guys, U and A now!" I shouted, but it was too late.

Gunshots split the air as the Flyboys on the ground trained their guns on us. The four of us split, flying in different directions and dodging bullets, desperately trying to find a way in.

There was so much mayhem that none of noticed the bomb slipping out of Gazzy's pocket until it was much too late.

It fell…

And fell…

And fell…

And hit the building.

* * *

Fang POV

I waited until the whitecoats opened Iggy's cage door before bursting out of my already unlocked enclosure like a bird out of a…um…cage.

Whirling around, I sent a kick towards the nearest Flyboy's head, effectively killing him before vaulting myself over the cages so that I ended up in front of a very confused Iggy.

"C'mon," I said, quickly pulling him up, "we're outta here."

By now, the Flyboys have generally gotten over their initial surprise. I swiftly knocked a walkie-talkie out of a Flyboy's hand, hoping that he had not had enough time to alert anyone.

"Knock some Flyboys out!" I shouted, and, side by side, we fought the Flyboys.

Finally, some normal kicking-Flyboy-butt, without crazy mental stuff added in. Although I could tell Iggy wasn't very happy with the situation, I was glad that he at least gritted his teeth and took to punching and kicking the furry Eraser wannabees.

Finally, we had only the lead Flyboy left.

"I'll take care of this one," I muttered to Iggy before tackling and pinning the Flyboy to the floor.

"So," I asked conversationally, "where's your usual leader? The skinny telepathic man?"

A look of almost smugness crossed his face, "He disobeyed orders. He is being punished."

Well, one more adversary out of the way. "Really?" I asked, and slammed my fist into the Flyboy's jaw. He was out like a light.

I looked up at Iggy, "Are you ready to escape?"

His face was slightly confused. "You came for me."

I smirked slightly—nothing more than a twitch of my lips. "Of course. I couldn't let you stay here, couldn't I?" I reached for his hand and curled his fingers around hem on the back of my shirt. "Now just follow me."

And off we went.

Through corridors and corridors of white. Past countless nameless doors, around sharp turns, and way too many close calls. But my luck held as I ran through the building looking for Max. We weren't seen, at least up until now.

On and on through the maze.

Wait…I think we were getting close to Max.

The blur of doors flashing past slowed, until I was merely jogging.

What if the whitecoats had moved Max to another place? What if I had missed a turn? What if my bearings were wrong? I would never find her then, not here. Doubts and worries continued to plague my mind, until--

There!

Up ahead was that door with the same labels and the same signs as the one I had seen before. And with one long tanned arm sticking out through some kind of cat flap in the door. Max's.

The relief was excruciating.

I stopped in front of the door. "We found Max," I murmured to Iggy, then dropped down to my knees.

"Max? Are you okay?" I said through the cat flap. I didn't bother to ask her how or why she was in this position—she would tell me some other time.

"Fang?" her voice was shocked and hoarser than what I would have liked it to be, but it was still undeniably wonderful to hear her voice again. After everything that's happened.

"Do I look okay to you?" Max's sarcastic tone apparently had not disappeared. Then her voice lowered a little. "Iggy?" she called out, "Could you get that strip of metal on the ground right before your feet and…pick the lock on the doorknob? I dropped it."

I smirked, knowing how much it hurt her pride to ask for help. And then grew serious. There was plenty of time for that later, now was the time for escape.

But it was hard. I couldn't help but to get lost in Max's eyes, staring at me through the hole in the door. Or to be mesmerized by the way the light shone on what little skin I could see. Max was gaunt, dirty, desperate, and looked like she had been around the world and back, but to me, she was more beautiful than I had ever seen her.

Iggy grunted his acknowledgement and bent down to retrieve the make-shift lock pick.

Max looked at me and raised an eyebrow, asking what was going on. "I'll explain everything to you later," I promised, "but now we have to get you out of there."

Any time now, the whitecoats would realize that we've escaped, and here we are, sitting ducks in the lion's den.

However, before Iggy even got the metal into the lock, he was stopped.

_BOOM!_

I had barely enough time to close my eyes before a huge bright flash blinded me, and I could feel the tips of my hair being singed by the heat. The shock wave of the explosion blasted me against the wall as if I were no more than rag doll.

Dully, I registered screams of terrified whitecoats, but no experiments—this was a research facility. I could hear the thumps of falling bricks and collapsing walls. I could _feel_ the debris showering down on my head.

But I didn't pay much attention to that. The pounding in my head was obliterating everything, and I just wanted to go to sleep…

Max.

MAX.

MAX!

Quickly, I shook the stars from before my eyes and got up painfully, throwing off broken chunks of wall. I tried to ignore the ringing in my ears. At least nothing was broken.

"Max!" I shouted, "Iggy!"

What if they were buried under one of those mounds of rubble? Were they hurt? Worse?

"Mmngf," came the mumbled, half-coherent grunt from behind a particularly tall mound of dust and rubble to my right.

"Max?" I asked, approaching it cautiously, taking care not to make anything collapse. "You okay?"

"I'm in one piece, more or less." The words were muffled by the debris. "Help Iggy…he was knocked into a wall, I think."

I looked around at the destroyed place that used to be a hallway. Dust hung heavy in the air, and concrete and burned wood was scattered everywhere. There was barely any light, and what little there was came from tiny holes walls.

I spotted a hand sticking out from behind a large chunk of rock. "Iggy!"

I dragged him out, broken concrete crunching beneath my feet.

Iggy looked pretty beat-up. Covered in dust, blood trickled sluggishly from the side of head, and one arm was bent in a position no human arm should be able to do. Worried, I grabbed his wrist and felt for a pulse. Finally, I found it.

I breathed a sigh of relief. He was injured and unconscious, but alive. He'll survive.

I lay him down carefully on the smoothest, flattest part of the ground I could find.

Then, I ran over to Max, or at least the rubble that was blocking me from Max. But before I could say something, a huge, hulking creature stepped out from the gloomy half-light.

A Flyboy.

I leapt up and was about to give a lethal blow to its neck when I paused.

It looked pained, its mouth turning down in a grimace, fur sticking out at odd angles and coated in dirt. It made no move to protect itself, although I was sure it knew who I was and what I was going to do. The Flyboy just stood there, breathing heavily, waiting for death to come.

Then, I remembered the lead Flyboy I had knocked, and his smug look. These robots weren't completely indifferent. They still had some humanity, no matter how primitive, hidden somewhere under all that fur and teeth and ruthlessness.

I brought back my fist to punch it in the neck, but then paused again.

It felt so wrong to kill the Flyboy. It must have some sort of humanity within it. I can't just _leave_ it here. My protective side forbid that, even if it was only for a murder machine.

I groaned. Now I was feeling sympathy for a robot. What next?

But still, I grabbed it's arm, causing it to stiffen.

"See that?" I said, pointing to where dim light shone from around a corner. "Run that way and you'll eventually get out. Go. I'm not giving you a second chance."

I pushed the Flyboy that way, watching it lumber out of my sight.

"What was that about?" Max asked, sounding impatient.

"Nothing. Just showing a Flyboy some mercy."

Just as I finished, there was a rumble and the sound of falling debris coming from somewhere else in the building.

"Look," Max said, suddenly sounding panicked, "You better get Iggy and get out of this building. Quickly."

I shook my head. "No. not without you."

"Fang, be reasonable. This building's going to collapse. You've got to get out while you still have the time."

"And what about you?"

"I'll find my own way out."

"I promised you I wouldn't leave you."

"Well, break that promise!" Max's voice was angry.

There was another low rumble as more of the building fell.

Max lowered her voice. "Look, if you stay, all three of us are going to die. Come on. Don't put Iggy's life on the line because of your stubbornness. Go. Now."

I hesitated, but I could already feel my resolve slipping away. Who was I to put Iggy in danger?

As if sensing my indecision, Max continued, "Look, go out, now. I can take care of myself. Anyway, the rest of the Flock are out there, waiting for you to come out."

"What?!"

"Who else but Gazzy would have a bomb like that? Anyway, go."

I heard another rumble. Closer, and louder this time.

Max was whispering. "Please. For the Flock. For me."

I bowed my head and stared at the dusty grey ground. "Fine," I murmured, "but I'm coming back for you."

And before she could say anything, I picked up Iggy and sprinted away, towards the light.

**Not the best chapter, but oh well.**

**Review?**


	19. Chapter 19

****

**Thanks go to:**

**- ****TaKeMeToPaRiSs153**

**- ****emotionalpoemgirl**

**- first flight  
**

**80 reviews! I feel special :)**

****

**I apologize in advance for the crappy chapter, and if things do not make sense.

* * *

**

_But what do you say to taking chances,  
What do you say to jumping off the edge?  
Never knowing if there's solid ground below  
Or hand to hold, or hell to pay,  
What do you say,  
What do you say?_

_--_Taking Chances, _sung by Celine Dion

* * *

_

Fang POV

This hallway looked oddly familiar.

The hard linoleum floor, now cracked and covered in rubble, the light—the doorway to the outside, to safety—at the end of the hallway…

The light. The bright sunlight streaming from a crack at the end of the hallway. That was where I needed to go.

Oh, wait. You've heard this before, haven't you?

Well, bear with me here.

The aching longing in my heart was there, as usual. Telling me to get to the light, get outside, then to come back for Max as quickly as possible. Telling me that everything's going to be okay once I've got her and Iggy.

And there was another voice, a quiet one. The one I kept repressing. The one who was most probably correct. The one that said that maybe, maybe, only one of them was destined to survive, that I made the wrong decision.

I heard a loud thump near the opening. Then another. Loud, furry thumps.

Worried now, I started running for it, carrying Iggy slung over my shoulders.

As I ran, I noticed the light in the hallway fading, almost disappearing altogether. What used to be a dim hallway now was completely dark. Like a prison. The little rays of light were gone now, to be replaced by shadows and little whimpers of pain from what I now knew was the Flyboy I had saved who was currently trying to push its way out.

My sneakers hit the ground, bringing up dust that made me want to sneeze.

But I didn't dare sneeze. This whole building was weak enough that I was worried that even a single breeze would bring the whole structure crashing down, leaving me with no chance of seeing Max again.

A single breeze, or a certain stupid Flyboy who's been shown a little too much mercy for my liking.

And still I ran.

The hallways were a lot more complicated now. Sometimes passageways branched off it, into the dark unknown. Sometimes routes doubled in on itself, making large, pointless loops. The building was a lot weaker around here. The closer I came to the light, the less of it there seemed to be, rather than the other way around.

And still I ran.

This place was turning very mazelike by now, with twisting passageways and holes leading off into the distant unknown. Several times, I tripped—over what, I did not know, nor did I want to.

The only thing that kept me going was the sight of the ever-diminishing light at the end of this hallway. I knew that if I reached there and into whatever lay beyond it, then Iggy would be safe, and I would be free to get Max.

The light was so close now, so close…

Finally, the Flyboy popped outside and was gone. Relieved by the sudden increase in light, I sprinted forwards towards the opening, Iggy's arms flopping limply against my back.

I felt the low rumbling long before I heard it.

It started first in the ceiling, then moved down the walls. Then, the very ground began to shake with the vibration of a million stones falling on it, hitting it, _breaking_ it.

Putting on an extra burst of speed, I made for the opening, with no thought but my own life in my mind.

Rocks pelted me from above and I silently urged my legs to move faster. Faster, away from the danger.

Then, I was out.

Running a full dozen metres away from the building, I suddenly remembered Iggy and laid him as gently as I could on the ground. I hoped he wasn't hurt too badly.

It wasn't until I finally looked back before I was horror-stricken.

The Itex building was crumbling now, its thick walls collapsing under its own weight, the ceiling curving inwards. The grass all around the facility was either powdered in dust, buried under rubble, or burnt. Whitecoats and Flyboys who were smart enough to get out in time were running away in all directions, not one wished to be near. The morning sun was almost mocking, shining brightly on this scene of wreckage.

I had left Max in there. I had left Max _in a collapsing building_. I had left Max trapped in the collapsing building with no thought but my own safety.

A small hand was laid on my shoulder, and I flinched in surprise.

"You couldn't have helped it. It was either you and Iggy, or none of you," Angel said, while Nudge and Gazzy began tending to Iggy beside me, occasionally looking up at the slowly crumbling remains of what used to be an Itex facility. I didn't bother to ask how they came to be here.

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Maybe, maybe only one was destined to survive. Maybe, maybe one was destined to die here.

No.

Max wouldn't want me thinking like this.

No.

I didn't go through all of this just to have her die now.

No.

She couldn't have died. Not Max.

No.

She might still be alive. I wasn't going to help anyone sitting here.

No.

I could still save her.

_I knew I had a choice—either open the door and choose to be with Max, or to be with Iggy. _

_The alive and welcoming, or the already-long-gone._

_The chance to fix a mistake that I made, or the chance to fix a mistake that Itex made._

_My (living) friend, or my (dead) best friend._

_Iggy or Max._

_Max or Iggy._

_Who should I choose?_

Before, I had thought there were only two choices. Only two. I thought I had made my choice by running out with Iggy. But there was another still to be made.

Life was full of decisions, isn't it?

I thought it was either one or the other. To get one, the other would be sacrificed.

I hadn't realized there were three choices.

I got up to my feet, and ran for the almost-demolished building. In the distance, I could hear the Flock members' shouts of surprise, but I ignored them.

Three choices:

Iggy

Max

Myself.

One is saved.

One might get saved.

And one was the sacrificial offering.

****

**Unfortunately, the story's very close to the end. And by very close, I mean**** by one or two more chapters :( **

**However, I could write a sequel, if you guys want. I've got a summary and the beginnings of a plot. Do you want one?**

**Review?**


	20. Chapter 20

**It's the last chapter! –sniff-**

**Hope you enjoy it!**

Fang POV

The darkness was all-encompassing, all-consuming. It settled in the smallest crevices, hung in the air like a veil.

There was barely any light now to show me the way.

I groped around, trying to move in a straight line, knowing that if I strayed even a foot off course, I would be hopelessly lost.

But all I could think of was Max. Of her smooth hair, of her soft lips, of her quirky smile. Of how she was still trapped in this place.

So I struggled on.

I dared not call out her name. The way this building was looking, a small gust of wind would probably cause it to collapse, most likely killing both Max and I.

No, I wasn't suicidal. I just wanted to get Max. I just wanted to be with her, to see her _alive_.

Was that too much to ask for?

With this universe, most probably.

There was a low rumble, closer this time--more of the building was collapsing.

Uh, oh. Time to get a move on.

I took another step, then bent over, coughing from the dust hanging in the air.

It was basically like walking through a sandstorm. Except that the sand isn't moving, and the sky is liable to fall down any moment.

In this dark hole of a place, time basically has no meaning, so I had no idea how much time had passed before I stumbled into the wall, bringing down more stones and dust.

Cursing, I stepped back, running my hands over the rubble to find a way around it. My hands hit something smooth and soft, and I suppressed a shudder.

It was a body.

I squinted, and even with my enhanced night vision, I could just barely make out the outline of a head, of an arm, of the wings…

As vague as it was, I knew who it was.

"Max." I whispered—my throat was too raw from the dust in the air to do much else.

I knelt down, ignoring the sharp stones that cut into my skin, and carefully dug Max out.

How bad was she? I don't know, but bad enough to be knocked out. Sometimes, I could feel the wet, sticky sensation of blood, and my head was filled with worry and panic.

It was my fault that she was like this. If I had just got her out, and then escaped the building with both Iggy and her…

I shook those thoughts out of my head. There was plenty of time for that kind of thinking later. However badly Max was injured, we've got to get out. Now.

As if agreeing with me, a shower of debris fell on top of my head, falling away from the ceiling with a cracking sound. The ceiling held—for now.

"Gotta go," I murmured. Then, I scooped Max up and ran straight for what I hoped would be the opening.

Running, sprinting. On and on. Worrying that I was going the wrong way, and that we'd both die right there, in the remains of the Itex facility.

But in the distance, I could see a pinprick of light. I kept running for it as fast as I could relieved that we were almost there when—

Bam!

I crashed into a wall of rock.

Instinctively, I cushioned Max with my arms so that the stone didn't hurt her. Unfortunately, I didn't cushion _me_, so I had long scrapes running down the length of my forearms. Just what I needed.

Right around shoulder height was a small hole, which I had mistakenly thought was the way out.

Well, technically, it _was_ the way out. It just wasn't the right size. The foot thick wall of debris was all that separated Max and I from safety.

No! I didn't fight through all of this to be stopped by a pile of _rock_.

I'm not going to let us die just because of this.

No, I'm not.

Placing Max down as a safe distance away from the wall, I turned and kicked the rock around the hole with all my strength.

Crack! The wall crumpled, and a little bit of it fell away, but the hole was still nowhere near large enough.

I drew my foot back for another kick, then—

"You okay there, Fang?" A face peeked in.

"Gazzy!" I cried, "What are you doing here? It's not safe. Actually, don't answer that. Help me, will you?" Please help. We'd get out that much quicker with two people.

"Sure." Gazzy drew back, and the next thing I knew, dust and rock was shooting for my face.

"Gazzy!" I coughed, spitting out rock dust, eyes watering.

"Sorry," he muttered, "I didn't hit you with that rock, did I? It was the only way I could think of to break the wall. Apart from bombs, of course."

I was glad that he didn't use bombs.

But his rock throwing worked. Through the haze of dust, I could see a hole large enough to squeeze through.

Hope shone as bright as the sunlight streaming in.

"Could you help me with Max? She's unconscious."

"Max? You've got her?"

Without waiting for his answer, I picked Max up (she's gonna kill me when all of this is through), and was about to shove her through the hole when she stirred.

Now, with the sun shining on her body, I could see the extent of her injuries.

Her face was covered in dust and cuts and bruises, as were her arms. Her right arm was caked with dirt and blood, and her legs didn't look particularly good, either. Her wings hung limp from my arms, feathers ragged. One of them was cut to the bone, leaking blood, and the other looked broken. From head to toe, Max was covered in ripped clothing and rock dust.

And yet, she awoke.

Max blinked slowly, as if wondering whether she was alive or not. Then, she focused on me.

"Fang," she murmured, voice harsh and rough, lips smiling, "knew you'd listen to me."

She shifted a little, trying to get up, they slumped back into my arms. "Ow," she muttered.

It was then that I knew that she was going to be fine.

"We're getting you out," I said, raising my arms to get her through the hole, "Just don't move."

The ceiling above us sagged noticeably lower. A low grating sound could be heard from the tunnel behind us.

And it all came falling down.

Without pause, I shoved Max through the hole, then squeezed myself through after her. Scooping her up, I ran for the hill where Nudge, Angel, and Total were waiting with wide eyes.

"Hurry up, Gazzy!" I shouted, "Get yourself outta there!" I could hear him panting at my heels.

Then, we were there. At the hill. To safety.

I set Max down beside Iggy. She looked up at me gratitude shining in her eyes no matter how much she tried to hide it from me.

I suppressed a chuckle.

The rest of the Flock crowded around her.

"Hey guys," she said, still trying to sit up, though wincing from the effort, "long time no see." I pushed her back down.

"So you'd be all right?" Nudge asked hesitantly, as if unable to believe that Max was here, alive.

"Of course. It'll take more than a heap of stone to get rid of me," she smirked. It was beautiful.

"Max!"

"You're alive!"

"No duh."

I grinned.

I couldn't help myself, although it wasn't just from the happiness on the younger Flock members' faces.

We were all out, safely. We have Max with us, alive. The Itex facility was destroyed.

Sure, both Max and the Flock have some explaining to do later.

Sure, when Iggy wakes, he probably wouldn't be happy.

Sure, I have no idea what's become of the whitecoats, the Flyboys, the telepathic man, or Mr. Martinez.

But the Flock can get through that.

Together.

**First of all, a million thanks to everyone who's read or reviewed this story. You guys rock!**

**Second of all, there **_**will**_** be a sequel to this, called Rising. Although I will be starting it as we speak, I want to get a few chapters of it done before I start posting it.**

**So…that's it…**

**Review one last time? **


End file.
